


Poison in the Blood

by rowenaaine



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Destruction, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, M/M, Mayhem, Mental Health Issues, Not Canon Compliant, Poisoning, Sexual Content, Tragic Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension, alternate ending ep 4.18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 08:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 37,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14445681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowenaaine/pseuds/rowenaaine
Summary: "If it had been anyone but Gordon asking him to do this, and for anyone other than Jeremiah Valeska, Bruce would have bristled and told them that he wasn’t a man to be ordered about. But this oddly timed and mysterious request certainly had his attention. With the unexplained distance Jeremiah had recently put between them, and Jim's urgent phone call, Bruce needed answers."Bruce Wayne is asked by Captain James Gordon to visit Jeremiah Valeska at the man's fortified bunker. Gordon won't say why other than Gotham needs Bruce's help for urgent police business. Bruce can't imagine what Jeremiah and police business have to do with one another, and he's also harboring some hard feelings after his relationship with Jeremiah went from love-at-first-sight to near strangers in less than four days.Visiting the bunker is the last thing Bruce wants to do.So of course, he's going.





	1. Spark in the Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Goes AU at Episode 18 where Bruce and Jeremiah shake hands. I wrote the majority of this before episodes 20-22 aired, so many of the scenes from Gotham you may be familiar with are missing.
> 
> Also, added a playlist as chapter 14 if you've already read this story and wonder why it's been updated!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry  
> You don't know how lovely you are
> 
> I had to find you  
> Tell you I need you  
> Tell you I set you apart
> 
> Tell me your secrets  
> And ask me your questions  
> Oh, let's go back to the start
> 
> \- Coldplay, "The Scientist"

If it had been anyone but Gordon asking him to do this, and for anyone other than Jeremiah Valeska, Bruce would have bristled and told them that he wasn’t a man to be ordered about. But this oddly timed and mysterious request certainly had his attention. With the unexplained distance Jeremiah had recently put between them, and Jim's urgent phone call, Bruce needed answers.

Going to the bunker was the last thing he wanted to do after the way they'd left things on Sunday. But he'd agreed to help Jim, and that's what mattered, not his silly broken heart. When he arrived, he was buzzed in with no sign of Ecco.

Jeremiah was standing at his monitor bank with his back to the door, having watched Bruce’s progression through the maze.  Immediately Bruce sensed something different in Jeremiah’s posture.

Bruce had known Jeremiah initially as an uncomfortable genius, awkward body language with hard-to-read facial expressions. Over the span of just nine days, Jeremiah went from shy, reserved and bookish to passionate, caring and tender to suspicious, aggressive and distant. It was enough to make Bruce's head spin.

But here, in this moment, Jeremiah stood ramrod straight, shoulders back, arms at his sides and eerily still. Like a soldier.

“Jeremiah,” Bruce started, impatient. “Why did Captain Gordon call and ask me to come here? Couldn't you ask me yourself?”

“Bruce,” the other man replied in a calm, even tone. “Thank you for coming.” He slowly turned around and Bruce gasped in dismay.

Jeremiah was dressed in a dark purple double-breasted suit, quite obviously bespoke as neither its style nor color was a common fashion look in Gotham (except maybe for someone like Oswald Cobblepot). His crisp white dress shirt was paired up with a green and purple paisley tie, a little garish for some tastes, but well-coordinated to the suit. He wore a black brimmed hat and black leather gloves.

While his choice of clothing made an attractive but completely out-of-character package, that wasn’t what had stunned Bruce.

It was the man’s face.

Already fair-skinned as a redhead, albeit his hair had been more dark auburn than flame like his brother, his skintone now could only be described as a stark, paper white with an almost ethereal radiance. His lips were cherry red, but not from lipstick – at least it didn’t look like lipstick to Bruce – and without his horn-rimmed glasses it was easy to see his eyes…his irises, no longer hazel but a piercing, sea green; clear as glass marbles but for the sharp contrast of the black pupils.

If his otherworldly look wasn’t so unsettling, Bruce might have described it as breathtaking. Even beautiful.

“What…w-what is this?” Bruce stammered, feeling weak in the knees.

“Have a seat, please.” Bruce hesitated but then slid onto one of the metal bar stools that served as a chair. “I’m sorry to have startled you with my…appearance, but I thought it best to get it out of the way before getting to business.”

“Jeremiah, I…what happened to you?” The other man didn’t answer, but leaned back on his desk and casually crossed his ankles. “And what business would we have after the last time we met?”

Jeremiah quirked his red lips into a tiny smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Funny story, that,” he replied, so unnaturally still he might as well be a statue. “Not sure we have the time to go through it start to finish. Suffice it to say there was an incident. An accident, if you will. Well, an accidentally-on-purpose incident,” he laughed, and it was a short, dark, cackle that raised the hairs on the back of Bruce’s neck. “Or is that an incidentally-on-purpose accident?” He waved a gloved hand. “No matter.”

Bruce stared at him; there was nothing about this man that resembled the Jeremiah Valeska he knew.

“When I asked about the makeup you were wearing the other day for Jerome’s funeral? It was to hide the results of this … _incident_?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m surprised you believed me to be so vain as to cover some dark circles with foundation.”

“People do and say strange things when they’re grieving,” Bruce muttered.

“I suppose they do.” Jeremiah absently adjusted his cufflinks, as one might when they weren’t used to wearing such accessories. Glancing quickly to the man’s wrist, Bruce caught a glint of silver and the shape of a playing card.

“Why didn’t you call me,” Bruce asked stubbornly, “when this _incident_ occurred? Why would you go through something like this on your own?”

“Fair question. I really hadn’t a chance to think things through at the time. Even now, things get a little muddy when I try and go back over the…um…” He blinked hard, blanking out for a moment. He shook his head, seemingly annoyed at the pause he’d taken in his speech. “…event. Anyway, let’s talk about why you’re here.”

For Bruce, the pause was the only thing that sounded like Jeremiah in this whole conversation. It gave him hope that whatever the hell was going on, he might still be able to reach him.

“I’ll bite. Why am I here?”

“The reasons are two-fold. First, well…you’re Bruce Wayne and that makes you the obvious choice for any demands that one would make in the course of committing any number of criminal atrocities.”

“What?” His brow furrowed. “That doesn't even make any sense."

"Well, my first choice had been to talk directly to the GCPD. But I wasn't getting very far with them. They like to pull out their guns and get all antsy. When I explained to Captain Gordon that you and I had a _special_ friendship, he realized you might be a better person to, how did he put it? 'Deal with me' So," he spread his arms out, "here we are."

Bruce sniffed. "Special friendship? How do you figure? Doesn't feel like there's anything between us at this point." He bristled with resentment. "What’s the second reason?”

Jeremiah’s response was swift and cold. “Let’s deal with number one, first.”

The man pushed off the desktop and walked to the nearest wall blackboard. “You’ll recall this blueprint that you and I discussed on Saturday.”

“Yes,” he said curtly.

“Don’t pout, Bruce, it’s unbecoming.”

Bruce glared at Jeremiah. “Get on with it.”

“Eager. I do like that about you,” he smirked. “Fine. Undoubtedly you’ve seen the news, and are aware of recent strikes in the downtown area. In the for…”

“Wait,” Bruce interrupted, “are you telling me that _you’re_ involved with the terrorist attacks in the Narrows?”

“Bruce, you’re jumping ahead. That’s spoiling the story.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bruce leapt to his feet. “There have been explosions all over Gotham, killing dozens of people, and you want me to sit still and listen to a story? It wasn’t the Clown Cult? What have you _done_ , Jeremiah?”

“Steady, Brucie boy,” Jeremiah said menacingly, holding his palm up. “You might want to sit back down.” When Bruce made no move to do so, Jeremiah produced a gun from his pocket. “Sit. Now."

Bruce obeyed and put his head in his hands, shoulders quaking with emotion. Jeremiah tucked the gun back in his pocket and crossed his arms. “Oh, what is it now?” he asked snappishly.

“The Jeremiah I know would never point a loaded pistol at me,” he ground out through tightly clenched teeth, barely repressing his rage.

“Now, now. Who said it was loaded?” Jeremiah smirked. “ _May_ I continue?”

“Is this funny to you?”

Jeremiah ignored him. “There were eighteen targets selected, ranging from the Village,” he picked up a piece of chalk and drew lines, “to West Side Park, Gotham Square, the Theater District…oh, let’s just say, significant coverage of the most populated parts of the city.” He tossed the chalk back down and checked to make sure Bruce was paying attention. “You have probably guessed by now, since you like to jump ahead, these incendiary devices are powered by my, _our_ , recently developed generators. Three of the targets have been hit. That leaves fifteen more strikes set to occur over the next seventy two hours.”

“Why?”

Jeremiah blinked. “Why what?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why not?”

Bruce stared at the man, uncomprehending how anyone could do something so destructive, but more so, how _Jeremiah_ could be the one doing it.

“What do you want from me?” Bruce asked resignedly, as he pondered what tactic to take to get to the real Jeremiah that he knew was still in there.

“So glad you asked!” Jeremiah smiled, finally showing his teeth, and although his smile was still as beautiful as it had been before, it looked cruel and evil with those red lips. “First, you need to reinstate that grant that you so hastily put on hold due to my, what was it again? My unstable personality? Right. Actually, if you could double it, that would be ideal. Second, I want your help in identifying some chemical components that I recently stumbled upon which were created at Wayne Labs. It’s, uh…” Jeremiah again hesitated, this time screwing up his face in pain and gripping the side of his head. He shook it off and continued. “Uh, strictly for identification purposes, nothing to be concerned about.”

"You won't create chemical weapons with these components?"

Jeremiah tilted his head. "Hmm. Hadn't actually thought that far. You have good ideas. But no. Merely to study their composition. I want full access to the labs."

“Fine. Done.”

“Done?” Jeremiah looked puzzled. “It was that easy? I guess we could have done this by phone after all. I should have asked for a pony while I was at it.” He stepped behind the desk and tossed back a couple of white pills with a sip of water.

“Headaches worse?” Bruce asked, real concern on his face.

“No, just…” Jeremiah looked at Bruce and then looked away. Without missing a beat, he quickly got back to business. “So, when can you secure access to the labs and the grant money?” He walked back to the blackboard.

“That depends on you. I have a few requests myself.”

“Oh, Brucie, I don’t think you’re in a position to make demands.”

Bruce balled his fists. “Don’t patronize me. You’ll do two things for me.”

Jeremiah put a gloved finger to his lips and listened.

“One, you’ll give me the location of some, if not all, of the targets so I can at least give the GCPD a fighting chance of evacuating the affected areas. Don’t make them evacuate the whole city, unless that’s part of your grand scheme here.” Bruce paused to see if Jeremiah had a question. The other man said nothing.

“Second, you’ll talk to me. Man to man. Tell me everything. Tell me about the incident. Tell me why,” he waved his hand, “you’re dressed like a 1970s Harlem pimp. Why you all of a sudden seem to have become public enemy number one when just last week you were a brilliant engineer. Why you’ve treated me like a complete stranger after we shared th…”

“These demands of yours,” Jeremiah interrupted with that weird cackle, “are quite the reach, don’t you think? Why would I give up my leverage and let the GCPD evacuate all the targets? Then they’d just become empty shells. It’s the threat against Gotham's citizenry, the potential casualties and collateral damage that makes any of this a real consequence.”

“Chaos for chaos sake?”

“Not chaos, exactly,” Jeremiah mused. “I’d call it remodeling the city. A simple cleansing, _Mr. Wayne_.”

“A cleansing fire,” Bruce whispered, dread filling him as he recalled Ra’s Al Ghul’s prediction.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing. And why would I give you anything, _Mr. Valeska_ ,” Bruce sniped, “if you’re just going ahead with the attacks?”

“Why, for the suspense, of course. It’s called negotiation. I’d consider – consider, mind you –  deactivating a handful of the targets in return for what you’d be giving up – not all of them, and I’m certainly not divulging all the locations. Don't be naive, Bruce.”

Bruce had slowly been advancing and now stood toe to toe with Jeremiah. The other man had allowed it, anxious to bait him further. Bruce was so cute when filled with righteous indignation. There was no real threat from Bruce after all; the gun was still in his pocket and indeed was loaded, despite implying otherwise to the young man.

“Good point. I've already been naive enough to last me the rest of my life. Fine. What about my second request?”

“Which was what, again? You and me bonding over a glass of scotch, hmm?”

“You know what I think?” Bruce continued, not breaking eye contact (no matter how freaky) with Jeremiah. “I think you’re scared.”

“Scared? Of you?” He clapped his gloved hands once and let out a peal of laughter that reverberated off the metal sheeting covering the cement walls.

“Of what we started. Of _us_.” Bruce crossed his arms and stood stubbornly in front of Jeremiah. “If there ever _was_ an us, that is. You won’t tell me what happened to you? Fine. How about this one? I dare you to kiss me.”

“Bruce, do you really think this is the time for a stroll down memory lane?” Jeremiah giggled, shaking his head.

“I think it’s exactly the time, considering the memory is pretty damn fresh.”

“Well, I’m a little busy to indulge in extracurricular pursuits right now, including this little Truth or Dare moment. But I appreciate the offer. Maybe we can revisit it sometime.”

Bruce thought back to the start of the conversation. “Wait. You never did give the second reason you had me brought here. Remember? ‘Two-fold’?”

Jeremiah stared at Bruce for a long moment, trying to remember what the second reason was.

“Oh, yes. The second reason was silly. Some sentimental _thing_ that no longer seems appropriate.”

“Tell me,” Bruce growled, running out of patience.

“Alright," Jeremiah sighed. "You get so testy. I'd wanted to show you this,” he pointed to his face and took a step back from Bruce, “so you would understand why I...why he,” he turned away and coughed a few times against the back of his glove, then paused to catch his breath. It was clear that whatever happened to Jeremiah had some lingering consequences for his health. “…why there was distance put between you…um, us. It wouldn’t have translated over the phone - you needed the visual for full effect.” He shrugged.

“So,” Bruce laughed, “this is your way of giving me, what? An excuse? An explanation? Or is this supposed to be closure?” Jeremiah cocked his head to the side and watched the flush color Bruce’s cheeks.

“You can be so pretty when you’re mad. Go ahead, Bruce. Get angry. Angry people make mistakes.”

“The Jeremiah I knew…”

“Stop. You _never_ knew me!” the other man snapped, bringing his gloved hand down on the drafting table at his side. “We knew each other exactly ten hours, Bruce. _Ten hours_. Throw in a few hours of sleep in the same bed and a few working hours over the course of a week, it doesn’t even add up to two full days. How can you be so twisted up over a one-night stand with a virtual stranger?”

Dismayed, Bruce pressed on. “Virtual stranger? You’re asking me why I’m twisted up over someone who experienced a hostage situation with me, spent hours with me discussing hopes and dreams, and then – right here – in this very bunker – spent the night with me making lo…”

“Must we rehash the specific details?” Jeremiah brushed past Bruce to pour himself a drink. He had really hoped to end this conversation civilly without having to shoot the boy.

“Stop.” Bruce snatched Jeremiah’s arm by the wrist and slid his hand just above the glove. The skin was so warm. Bruce didn’t know what he’d expected; something cold, maybe, like death. But Jeremiah was warm and alive just like he had always been. The other man hissed through his teeth as if burned and stood still as a statue.

“You shouldn’t touch me,” Jeremiah murmured after a moment of tense silence.

“Why, are you contagious?” Bruce asked in all sincerity.

The other man scoffed.

Bruce boldly drew the glove off of Jeremiah’s right hand. The skin was as paper white as the man’s face, as far up the arm as Bruce could see, blue-green veins easily visible.

“Has this t-transformation happened everywhere?” Jeremiah nodded, looking down at his hand in Bruce’s as if seeing its color for the first time. “Are the headaches worse?” After hesitating, the other man shook his head.

“No. They’re the same,” he shrugged, reverting somewhat into his “former” personality. Understanding dawned – it seemed to Bruce that when they were touching like this, skin to skin, bits of Jeremiah’s former self broke through.

In a moment of desperation, Bruce let go of his hand and without warning, threw a punch at Jeremiah, landing a perfect right hook square on his jaw. Taken by surprise, the man slammed back into the blackboard and hit the floor.

For the few moments Jeremiah was out cold, Bruce hunted around for something, _anything_ , he could use to restrain the man. He found a couple of electrical cords and, after dragging Jeremiah away from the wall, tied his ankles together and restrained his right arm around the fixed leg of the drafting table. After disarming him, he grabbed a cold bottle of water from the portable fridge, sat cross-legged on the floor holding Jeremiah’s now also uncovered left hand and waited.

“Where’s my hat,” Jeremiah groused when he came to.

“On the desk. With your gloves. And your switchblade. And your gun. Unloaded now. ”

“Hmmph.” He stared off into the distance. “Did you have to hit me so damn hard?”

Bruce held the bottle of water out against the side of Jeremiah’s face where his fist had made contact.

“Yes.”

“Thought so.” He waited for Bruce to take the bottle away before speaking again. “You planning to hold my hand hostage all day or something?”

“Or something. As long as it takes for me to get my answers.”

“Such a clever boy,” Jeremiah mumbled.

“This new white skin of yours doesn’t seem to bruise very easily.”

“You don’t say. At least you haven’t marred my beauty.” He tried to sit up and Bruce assisted, careful to not pinion his restrained arm. "Thanks for not tying me up on my left side. Those bruises my brother gave me are still a bitch."

Bruce felt his heart twist a little at the memory.

“Start talking, Jeremiah. You’re stalling.”

“You’ll need to be more specific, Bruce. I didn’t get gifted with super special mind-reading powers or anything.” 

“Okay, go back to that Wednesday morning. What time did I leave here?”

Jeremiah sighed and gestured with his chin for Bruce to press the bottle against his jaw again. “If I remember right, and there's no guarantee because things are a little scrambled now, it was about 10 am. And before you ask, yes, I remember you stayed the night. I remember every...well, most of it." Bruce closed his eyes and fought the emotion that threatened to choke him.

“What was the last thing you said to me?” he bit out, trying not to show how badly he hurt.

“Au revoir?”

“Not even close.”

“I don’t want to play twenty questions.” Jeremiah pushed back against the bottle and Bruce removed it again.

“If you talk, I won’t have to ask the full twenty,” Bruce smiled sadly.

“Fine. I believe I said ‘I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon, beautiful.’” Bruce’s breath caught and hope rose within him, until Jeremiah shivered.

“Are you cold?”

“Sort of? It…it just happens. All sorts of different contraindications. Symptoms. If you hang around long enough you’ll probably see a few more.”

Bruce rubbed Jeremiah’s hand between his palms to warm him up, and then clutched it tightly.

“Don’t cut off the circulation, hmm? I know it's white, but there’s still blood flowing,” he joked, chuckling weakly, nothing like the evil cackle Bruce heard earlier.

“Talk to me,” Bruce whispered. “I want to understand.”

Jeremiah turned his head, finally making eye contact with Bruce. His eyes had darkened slightly from earlier, appearing more opaque. “Okay.” He sighed. “Okay. So, I said I’d call you, we kissed goodbye and I watched the monitors to make sure you got out of the maze alright. And I sort of picked up around here a bit, you know, stuff we’d left out that I wanted to put back, like the scale model and the…the, was there a schematic out, too?” Bruce nodded. “That. And when I gave another look around the lab, I noticed the package on my desk.”

Bruce put the cold bottle on Jeremiah’s jaw again, and the other man looked away.

“Package?”

“Yes. I hadn’t seen it earlier but Ecco had put it there. She’d checked the delivery guy out and apparently he’d had a valid Wayne Enterprises ID.” Bruce froze.

“What did you just say?”

“The package. On my desk. It was from Wayne Enterprises. Well, I mean, it wasn’t really from Wayne Enterprises, but…” his speaking cadence was now almost fully back to the awkward Jeremiah that Bruce remembered. “I thought it was from Wayne Enterprises. It had a Wayne Enterprises gift tag on it. So, I thought you...I thought you sent me a gift.”

“But I didn’t send you anything from Wayne Enterprises.” Bruce put the bottle down and turned Jeremiah’s face toward him. “Jeremiah. I didn’t send you anything,” he whispered. "I didn't have a chance to send you anything. We'd just met, remember?" 

“I know,” Jeremiah choked out a laugh that ended on a sob and Bruce died a little inside. “But see, I didn’t know. I didn’t know because I didn’t think. I didn't think because I was just...all caught up in you. In us. All I could think about was you. And I made a mistake.

And then it was too late.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I haven't written anything here on AO3 in a couple years, but this new pairing gives me life. 
> 
> I'm thinking this is going to be around 10 chapters, and of course there's no happy ending.


	2. One Good Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Jeremiah have dinner together after the death of Jeremiah's twin brother, and they learn enough about each other to know they want to learn more. Throughout much of the evening, Jeremiah struggles with the usual mocking chatter in his head even as he finds himself completely consumed by his attraction to the beautiful Wayne boy.
> 
> -Jeremiah's internal commentary is in bold italics, a reminder that he had mental health issues long before he is transformed.  
> -Bruce's first line of dialogue is from the end of Gotham episode 18, season 4, "That's Entertainment." No copyright infringement is intended.  
> \- Also, I am not an engineer nor do I play one on TV, so Jeremiah's whole monologue about his work is a total shot in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it possible Mr. Loveable  
> Is already in my life?  
> Right in front of me  
> Or maybe you're in disguise
> 
> Who doesn't long for someone to hold  
> Who knows how to love you without being told  
> Somebody tell me why I'm on my own  
> If there's a soulmate for everyone
> 
> \- Natasha Bedingfield, "Soulmate"

_Nine days earlier_

“Mr. Valeska,” Bruce called as Jeremiah moved past the crime scene and his dead brother. The redhead stopped and turned back to face his new acquaintance. “I meant what I said about your work being of importance to this city. Let Wayne Enterprises fund your work with a grant.”

Jeremiah seemed dumbstruck for a moment, then held out his hand to shake Bruce’s for the second time that day. “Thank you,” he managed, forcing himself to hold eye contact much longer than was comfortable before glancing down at Bruce’s lips and then quickly turning away. He shook his head in disbelief at the turn of events. Jerome was dead and Bruce Wayne, the beautiful boy he met just a few hours ago, offered him a grant. He honestly didn’t know how he should feel. 

“Wait. Mr. Valeska?”

Several paces away, Jeremiah turned to look at Bruce while continuing to walk backwards.

“Can I give you a lift home?” Bruce called.

“Oh. Thank you, no.” He halted and shook his head. “I don’t think I’m quite ready to head home.” Then he closed his eyes briefly, realizing he was throwing away a perfect opportunity to spend time with Bruce now that they were no longer under threat of death.

“Um, Mr. Wayne?”

Bruce had been ready to give up and leave, but felt a little flicker of hope.

“Yes?”

Jeremiah held his tongue for a beat and then took the plunge. “Do you want to grab a bite to eat?”

Bruce smiled brightly. “Yes. I’d love to.”

Jeremiah couldn’t believe it was possible for Bruce Wayne to look more beautiful than he already was, but that smile…oh, he could get used to that smile directed at him.

“Great.” The redhead looked down at the ground before asking, “What would you--what are you in the mood for? I’m not familiar...” He waved his hand in general at the neighborhood.

Bruce had observed earlier that Jeremiah seemed to have limited social experience so he took the lead and made a quick decision for them. “Italian. There’s a place two blocks down – we don’t even need the car. They’ve got great pizza, too.”

“Pizza, yes, I could go for that.” Jeremiah exhaled, grateful for Bruce’s save.

**_Really? Couldn’t even ask the cute boy out without gettin’ tied up in knots. Wait. Will he even realize you asked him out? Nah, he’d probably have punched ya in the face if he thought you were hittin’ on him. He’s being kind; don’t get your hopes up, genius._ **

Jeremiah shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to halt the running commentary in his mind; the commentary that all his life had him second-guessing his decisions and overthinking everything. Oh, he was used to it. He'd learned to be a highly functioning individual despite the mental self-flagellation. But he really, _really_ wanted to get to know Bruce Wayne tonight. He was determined to ignore the distracting static between his ears. 

Distracting was an understatement. Constantly mocking and humiliating him no matter the extent of his accomplishments, the bitter voice in Jeremiah's head had always sounded just like his twin brother, Jerome Valeska.

******

“You know, if you want something more substantial,” Jeremiah gestured at the rest of the menu as he rested his chin in his hand, amused after listening to Bruce reel off all the possible pizza toppings he could pile on his slices.

“No, I think after the day we had, a couple of slices will suit me just fine. Okay, maybe a couple of monster-sized slices.”

“Do you mind if I order a glass of wine?”

“Not at all. I think we each deserve a bottle.”

At that, Jeremiah actually laughed for the first time that day. Bruce found himself even more enamored of the ginger-haired engineer than he already had been. He appreciated both his brilliant mind and his wholesome looks, and recognized the stirring of nervous butterflies in his stomach as he watched the man’s face light up when he gave a rare smile. 

“So, where did you finish school?” Bruce asked Jeremiah after they’d ordered.  

**_Hey, don't you wonder if he sees_ _me_ _when he looks at you? You always did settle for my cast-offs didn’t you, brother?_**

The bookish redhead looked briefly uncomfortable, then pushed his glasses up on his nose and squared his shoulders.

“St. Ignatius Academy had a wing that housed a satellite branch of Gotham Polytechnic Institute and that's where I majored in Engineering,” he rattled off like he was in an interview, and then glanced down at his hands. Bruce watched him carefully and waited until Jeremiah looked at him again before speaking.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re leaving something out?”

“What?” A telltale blush crept up Jeremiah’s neck. “Did you research me or something?”

“Absolutely not. But having seen even a glimpse of your work, there’s no way that’s the extent of your credentials. I’m terribly impressed and you’re terribly modest.”

Jeremiah took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “Interesting how you seem to just _know_ things about me, Mr. Wayne.”

“Strangely, I do feel like I know you. And it’s Bruce. Please, call me Bruce.”

“Alright. _Bruce_.” Jeremiah tried it out and liked the way it sounded.

“May I call you Jeremiah, or is Xander more your preference?”

“Well, um.” Another sigh. “Jeremiah, please. I mean, I do answer to both; I used Xander for the last 14 years and my degrees and work projects are all in that name.”

**_Oh please. No one has uttered the name ‘Jeremiah’ in over a decade. It’s kinda like you’re a ghost. Jeremiah as a person doesn’t even exist._ **

 “But…if given a choice,” he answered with more conviction than necessary, “I suppose I’d prefer Jeremiah, old fashioned as it is.”

“I understand why. Jeremiah is a lovely name. Very biblical,” Bruce said quietly, sipping his wine. He hadn’t bothered to tell Jeremiah he wasn’t of drinking age. And the slightly older man hadn’t asked.

“Th-thanks,” Jeremiah blushed deeply, dropping his eyes to his his own glass. “Alright. So, Bruce, I, uh, generally don’t like to talk about myself.”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t have guessed,” Bruce interrupted playfully.

Jeremiah blinked and then gave a relieved smile when he realized Bruce was just teasing him. “Well, I’m not one for the spotlight. I avoid being the center of attention; a consequence of my upbringing. But, I guess I _could_ tell you more.” He cleared his throat. “So, I finished high school at 14 and earned both my undergraduate and graduate degrees in Engineering in five years.”

“That’s quite an accomplishment. So a child prodigy, you graduated with what, a Masters at 19?”

Jeremiah nodded. “My schooling was very important to me, and I luckily had the aptitude for maths and sciences.”

**_Important to you? It’s all you have. Finishing so fast was like running for your life, wasn’t it? More like running_ _from_ _your life._**

Bruce waited, small smile playing on his lips as their food was served. When he didn’t comment further or even start eating, Jeremiah was confused.

“What? Do you say grace or something?”

Bruce chuckled. “No, that’s not it. There’s more, right?”

“More?”

“More to your story.” Bruce stabbed a mushroom from Jeremiah’s pizza and popped it into his mouth.

Jeremiah immediately lost his train of thought watching Bruce’s lips close over the vegetable, idly wondering if his mouth tasted as good as it looked. Blinking back into focus, he smacked Bruce’s hand away just as the younger man tried to playfully snag another one of his toppings.

“Food thief!” Jeremiah mock-complained, hoping his cheeks weren’t still as red as they felt.

“Growing boy and all,” Bruce joked around a mouthful of pepperoni pizza.

God, if watching Bruce Wayne eat his dinner was this arousing...Jeremiah was already done for. He loosened his tie.

**_See, this is what happens when you don’t get out enough. Or at all, bunker boy._ **

 “So what’s next?” Bruce asked, his own face flushed from the wine and crushing on his dinner companion.

“I’m sorry?” Jeremiah squeaked, mind trying to catch up while still distracted by Bruce’s lips.

“Your educational exploits. I’m not buying simple Engineering degrees - too plebeian.”

“Oh, wow. Okay, Wayne.” Jeremiah laughed self-consciously. “You’d make a fine detective.  If you really want to know…”

“I do, Jeremiah,” Bruce agreed.

“Okay.” Jeremiah was not used to people taking much of an interest in him. 

**_No, you’re just plain not used to people. Or hearing your real name._ **

It took him a minute to compose himself and figure out what he wanted to say. After taking a sip of wine and swirling the remainder of it around the glass, he cleared his throat again and took a deep breath. “So, after concentrations in chemistry, physics and mathematics, I realized that I wanted to focus on the production, recovery and reuse of chemical-based energy. Engineering was the logical path, so I got my Bachelors in Nuclear Science and Thermal Engineering. As a boy I found nuclear powered submarines to be of particular interest, but I later learned there isn’t really any money in that work - it’s kind of a ‘one and done’ situation, where you’re just replacing or refueling. And then there’s the whole complexity of bidding on government contracts to figure into it. There seemed to be more opportunity in power plants, especially renewable sources, continuous production and increased-capacity generator development. But even though there are private sector thermal power stations, they are also rarely commercially viable; so many places are zoned to prohibit construction that houses or uses any kind of nuclear-generated technology. Yet, no one is really contracting for simple powerstations anymore either, because they are so technologically out of date. So, to be pragmatic, I got my Masters in Structural Engineering, leaving my interest in nuclear energy for a Fusion Science PhD.”

**_Ho hum. If I was the Wayne kid, I’d already be yawning and calling for the tab._ **

Bruce was mesmerized.

Jeremiah pressed on, even though continuing to talk about himself was akin to chewing sawdust.

“So, the PhD was insurance in case I ever need to teach - a fall back if I wasn’t cut out for practical application - so professionally, I design wind-resistant skyscraper skeletons - essentially interior building framework like I did for Wayne Plaza - and I experiment with things like carbon electricity unit architecture on my own, and I can teach nuclear theory in a pinch if necessary.” He took a breath. “And holy crap, talk about boring...”

“No! No, you’re not. Not at all. You’re clearly passionate about what you do and this time, you didn’t sound like you were on a job interview. I’d love to learn more about your work; I really enjoy science in general - and who better to learn from than an actual ‘Science Guy’,” Bruce enthused, even using air quotes. “So, in other words, I was right. You really _do_ have a brilliant mind.”

Jeremiah shook his head self-deprecatingly. “You’re very sweet. I won’t downplay the fact that I’ve devoted myself to my studies, but brilliant?” he shrugged. “I guess I can live with ‘pretty smart’ and ‘applies himself’,” he joked.

Bruce laughed, an unaffected, joyful giggle that was higher than his mature speaking voice. Jeremiah found it enchanting how he could sound like Chairman of the Board one moment, and an excited teenager the next.

**_Of course the muscular line of his neck and those long eyelashes are pretty enchanting too, aren’t they? Like ‘em young, don’tcha?_ **

“Okay,” he tapped the top of the table with his palm, more to distract himself from the noise in his head than to get Bruce’s attention. “It’s my turn to ask you the questions, Bruce.”

“Fair enough. Can I just ask what your thesis entailed? Then I promise, I’ll dominate the conversation and the whole rest of your night if you like,” Bruce added.

Well, _that_ image didn’t do anything to dampen Jeremiah’s Bruce fixation or relieve the growing tightness in his pants.

“Right, my M-master’s thesis,” he raised an eyebrow to make sure that was the particular thesis Bruce was curious about, and continued at the boy’s nod, “was on ‘material properties affecting the penetration of metal targets by copper linear shaped charges’. Now, the real question is why I even remember that mouthful,” he smirked.

**_I saw what you did there. ‘Penetration of…’ whatever. Real subtle. I always had you pegged to be the one on the receiving end, brother._ **

Bruce just stared at him.

“Do you want me to repeat…”

“No,” the dark haired young man shook his head. “I heard you. I don’t know what it means but it sounds incredibly important. And...really, really sexy.”

Jeremiah huffed out a shaky laugh. “Sexy? Really? Th-thanks. I mean, I wish my professor had thought so. He busted my chops over the choice for months.”

“That’s because he knew,” Bruce said, washing down another mouthful of food with some water, “that no matter what you submitted, your potential to make it even better meant it needed constant revision. Right?”

The redhead couldn’t help but be impressed by how easily Bruce pulled information out of him and came to accurate conclusions. “How did…?” he shook his head. “There is something very compelling about you, Bruce Wayne. I think I’ve said more to you today than I have in total during the last 6 years.” He searched Bruce’s face, and Bruce sat up straighter, holding the gaze. “I think it’s your eyes,” he nodded to himself, then froze when he realized he’d said that last bit out loud.

Bruce did his best to accept the compliment without embarrassing Jeremiah. “I’m glad you feel comfortable with me, Jeremiah. I’m really comfortable with you too - I feel like I’ve known you for years.” He paused, then with a furrowed brow asked, “My eyes, though? They’re just, you know, _blue_. ”

Jeremiah willed his heart to slow down _._

**_Well, in for a penny..._ **

“No, not just blue.”  Jeremiah leaned in a little so he could lower his voice and have Bruce still hear him. “They’re a dark blue gray. They look calm. Peaceful. The color of the sky as I remember it just after the sun fully sets when I'd go camping as a kid. I feel like, if I’m looking in your eyes when you speak, you could convince me to follow you anywhere. Like I went along with you today, even though I was sure facing my brother meant certain death for both of us.” He shrugged, hesitating.

Bruce was watching him with interest, so he swallowed his pride and continued past the point where he knew he should have shut up. “Or, maybe more like the blue of a deep lake, where you can see so much going on under the water but there’s not even a ripple on the surface.” He paused and thought about what he’d just said. “Wow, okay. Somebody cut me off,” he covered his eyes with his hand, mortified. He then gestured toward Bruce. “Save me, would you? Tell me what _you’re_ studying,” he chuckled, blushing furiously.

Bruce blinked, replaying everything that his companion just said. He was amazed that anyone thought about his eyes, much less had such a focused and poetic description of them.

“Thank you,” Bruce offered seriously rather than shrugging it off like Jeremiah tried to do. “That was...really lovely, actually.”

Jeremiah rested his chin in his hand. “Now you see why I majored in engineering rather than English sonnets,” he deadpanned.

His sarcasm broke the ice, and Bruce let out that higher, genuine laugh that Jeremiah was starting to adore.

“So let me try that again. What are _you_ studying, Bruce Wayne?”

Bruce smiled. “Well played. Actually, I haven’t declared yet but I have a few ideas. Whatever I choose I’ll need to somehow double major - I need a significant amount of business acumen if I’m going to direct the goings-on at Wayne Enterprises. Even if I don’t personally end up running the company, I’ll want to be a part of the decision-making for the technologies we invest in. I’m into archaeology so I’m thinking of going in that direction.  I’m interested in excavation and post-dig analysis. There is a sub-discipline called cultural resources management that fascinates me. I guess it’s similar to anthropology. It’s more learning about the people than the artifacts, you know? I'd focus my studies on the origin and heritage of the semitic peoples and their impact on early Arab and Jewish cultures. But I’m still not really sure because I also love technology and anything related to artificial intelligence. So, yeah, I hate having to decide already.”

“Wow.” Jeremiah was dumbfounded at the poise and depth of this mature young man.

**_Good thing he’s poised, that’s why he let you off the hook for gettin’ all moonstruck over his eyes, ya dope._ **

“I-I don’t even know what to say to that. It sounds amazing. I’d love to hear more about it sometime. Are you, hmm. How do I put this in a politically correct way? Have you been…”

“Yes, and yes,” Bruce laughed. “I’m going to guess your questions are, ‘am I Jewish’ and ‘have I been to the Holy Land’ so, yes. I am and I have. The trip to Jerusalem I took when I was 14 was the impetus for my interest in the semitic world. Before that, Hebrew School and bible study didn’t really come alive for me. It wasn’t until I’d immersed myself in the culture for a half-semester that I got grounded in any of it.” He shrugged.

“That's cool. I’m Catholic, but my family wasn’t at all religious. I guess it was another thing that separated me from...from my brother. Thankfully I was sent to a Roman Catholic boarding school and St. Ignatius is really where I was exposed to my faith. It’s been a comfort but I need to keep working on it,” he said. “You know, Catholic guilt,” he joked. 

_**Catholic guilt? You mean those choking pangs of conscience you live with for turning everyone against your own flesh and blood?**_

“Oh, please. You Catholics don’t have a corner on the guilt market. We’re right there with you,” he laughed. “But I think faith is important in shaping one's moral compass, you know? Oh! I should also tell you; I’ve also been studying martial arts. I have a trip planned for later this year to train with some experts. Since my parents’ murder, I’ve taken it upon myself to be as proficient in self-defense as I can. ”

“Ah. Yes, your parents. I’m so very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. You know, your alias was in one of my father’s ledgers. How well did you know him?” Bruce glanced up, acknowledging the server as he set down coffee and dessert. He didn’t notice Jeremiah blanch.

“Oh. N-not well. Thomas Wayne, um, funded some of my research and gave me the chance to work on an incredible building.” Jeremiah looked away, hoping to halt discussion of any prior business with the Waynes. “I, we, spoke on the phone and I met him, uh, once to finalize my work on Wayne Plaza. My personal assistant handled all my, well...Xander's, face-to-face appointments as proxy. Especially after my brother became so easily recognizable in the news, I didn’t want to make personal appearances and be mistaken for him or, worse, have him find me. So, yeah. She takes care of all of that for me.”

“I see.” Bruce tried to hide his disappointment. Not only did Jeremiah not have any stories about Bruce's father, he had a female assistant.

“So your assistant is your representative. Is she your...” Bruce stopped himself. “Does she, ah, live with you?”

“Yes, she’s...wait, what? No. No, she doesn’t live _with_ me. I mean, she has her own rooms within the complex because she works for me, but she also keeps an apartment in Gotham midtown. She and I don’t have _that_ kind of relationship. Strictly work. She’s also a martial arts expert. You might even like her,” he shrugged. 

**_Seriously, you’re trying to hook him up with Ecco? Make up your mind._ **

“So, okay. I get it. She an assistant and also a bodyguard? She protects you and your identity and runs interference when someone wants to meet with you.”

“Yes, exactly,” he sighed. “She’s been indispensable but, ah,” he murmured a little self-consciously, “not exactly my type.”

Bruce felt his stomach flutter again. “Good, probably not mine either,” he said quietly, looking squarely across at the redhead.

Oh. _Oh!_ Jeremiah felt the ground level up under him.  

They sat quietly for a few minutes, letting their words sink in.

“So,”

“So,”

They both burst out laughing.

“Go ahead,” Bruce smiled, gesturing with his fork.

“No, that’s okay. You.” Jeremiah chuckled.

“Alright. I hope you don’t take offense,” Jeremiah looked up at Bruce’s choice of words. “But you said something earlier about your not wanting to be the center of attention being ‘a consequence of your upbringing’?”

“Ah,” the redhead nodded, resigned. “No offense taken at all. I said it, so I guess I should explain.”

“Only if you’re comfortable telling me, Jeremiah.”

Jeremiah looked for a long moment at Bruce. “After today, I think I’d be comfortable telling you pretty much anything, Bruce.”

Bruce held his gaze until Jeremiah swallowed nervously; Bruce was distracted by the redhead’s bobbing Adam’s apple before meeting the man’s eyes again, hoping he hadn’t been staring.

“When I was ten,” he started, a little mechanically, eyes unfocused as if repeating the words to a well-rehearsed speech, “I was sent away to boarding school. It was for my own protection. My brother had become increasingly troubled and even violent.” He met Bruce’s very attentive gaze. “When you have a twin, it can be very difficult. You don’t ever feel like your own person when seeing someone who is your mirror image every day. I know some twins are and stay very close, but we drifted as far from that as could be. I was always a quiet child, but I became more and more withdrawn thinking if I made myself small and scarce, he’d find someone else to bother and leave me alone.” He shrugged.

“Eventually, my mom felt my brother might really harm me and she had me taken away from the circus in the middle of the night. I never saw her again. After my first year in boarding school, I was ‘adopted’ by my second family. They are, sadly, deceased now – they died just before I graduated from St. ignatius – but they left me very well off. They were more benefactors than family. I didn’t live with them - they had a young child of their own at the time - but, yeah.” 

**_Oh, poor baby. Jerome was such a bully. But my, what a soft landing with those rich folks. Probably should quit while you’re ahead before the Wayne boy has more questions than you're ready to answer._ **

Bruce nodded, not interrupting as Jeremiah told his story.

“To more directly answer your question, avoiding confrontation at home in my childhood led me to be uncomfortable in social situations. Even more so as an adult, so I’m keenly aware that I lack some of the more nuanced skills for interacting comfortably.  Because of my discomfort with people, and probably from a resulting avoidance, I have social anxiety and don’t have many friends. I find it hard to trust people.”

“I think you’re doing fine right now,” Bruce murmured. Jeremiah’s raised an eyebrow and inclined his head toward Bruce in acknowledgement of the supportive words.

“You, of course, know what ultimately happened to my mother. I’d actually heard about my mother’s murder on the news. I hadn’t seen or heard from her in more than 10 years, so I felt a little removed from it, but it was still one of the most shocking things to ever happen to me. Yet, I can’t say I was surprised. I knew my brother was capable of terrible violence. And that he’d be coming for me eventually.” 

**_Yeah, and I almost got to you. But I’m not done with you yet. What would you do without me talking to you all day, every day like this?_ **

“That’s why you built your home the way you did.”

He nodded. “And actually I thought you were going to ask me why I stayed in Gotham. The answer to that is very simple. It’s my birthplace. I went to great pains to protect myself from him, but to stay away from my own hometown? No. I couldn’t let him win.”

“But you’ve been a virtual prisoner. Wasn’t that in a way letting him win?”

“I suppose it could be seen that way. But I’m used to being isolated. I think it was just the principle of the thing. I didn’t choose to be sent to boarding school. But I’m an adult now and I choose to live here in, well _near,_  this city regardless of how it looks to those on the outside.” Jeremiah pursed his lips stubbornly.

“Hey.” Bruce touched the back of Jeremiah’s hand with tentative fingers. “No judgment. I’m just playing devil’s advocate.”

The redhead tensed at the unexpected touch and then relaxed into his seat.

“Of course, I didn’t mean to be defensive.” His eyes darted quickly to their hands and back to Bruce’s face, an unfamiliar but welcome warmth filling him when he realized Bruce had yet to take his hand away.

*****

“Can you believe we’ve been talking for almost three hours?” Bruce said, glancing up at the clock.

“That has to be a record for me.” Jeremiah nodded at the wait staff for the check.

“Well, for someone that doesn’t like the focus on him, you sure kept up your side of the conversation. I appreciate it.”

Jeremiah rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and I also threw some rambling micro-poetry out there about someone's eyes so I’ll just keep quiet now.”

It was Bruce’s turn to feel flustered again, blushing as he focused intently on scraping up the last of his dessert while remembering quite clearly what Jeremiah said about his eyes - and it wasn’t rambling by any stretch.

When the server put the bill on the table and Jeremiah moved to take it, Bruce again touched his hand, this time curling his fingers into his palm.

“Let me, Jeremiah,” the dark haired boy offered. “Please.”

Jeremiah shook his head to demur. “No, no. I asked you to...I mean, we - dinner was my idea,” he grimaced at his clumsiness, “I can take care of it.”

Bruce smiled. “I know. But today, please let me. You’ll pick up the tab next time, deal?”

Jeremiah’s stomach flipped but his suspicious nature caused him to search Bruce’s face for lies or manipulation. But Bruce’s eyes were as clear and honest as they’d been all day. “Deal.” He squeezed Bruce’s fingertips in acknowledgement.

“So…come back to mine for a nightcap?” The words flew out in a rush, Jeremiah afraid he’d lose his nerve if he didn’t speak quickly.

**_What is this, a 1980's soap opera? Who even says ‘nightcap’ anymore?_ **

Bruce looked up and met Jeremiah’s expectant gaze. “Yes. Yes, I’d like that a lot,” he agreed, thrilled Jeremiah indeed meant this to be a date after all.

*****

“Oh, ow,” Jeremiah complained as held the door for Bruce. “You almost made me forget about that fiasco in Paisley Square.”

“Oh no. You must be really hurting by now.” Bruce cringed when he thought back to how hard Jerome had kicked his twin in the side after knocking him down.

“I’ll get over it. But, boy, my ribs are pretty tender.”

“Do you want me to go fetch the car for you, Science Guy?” Bruce teased. Jeremiah nudged the younger man’s shoulder.

“Ha ha. I can walk two blocks, Bruce,” he smiled, “but remind me to take some Tylenol or mainline scotch or something when we get to my place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 will bring the boys together (no pun intended) for some smut, so stay tuned.


	3. Mice in the Maze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys bond over science and scotch and Bruce gets a little carried away in demonstrating his affections for the awkward ginger. Jeremiah is shell shocked but undeterred.
> 
> In other words, innocent boys become less innocent as the night wears on.
> 
> \- Again, Jeremiah's internal commentary is in bold italics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Started a stranger, a love endangered  
> The edge of a knife  
> The face of an angel, the heart of a ghost  
> Was it a dream?
> 
> I, I am a man on fire  
> You, a violent desire  
> What a dangerous night to fall in love  
>   
> \- 30 Seconds to Mars, "Dangerous Night"

“This maze is really very cool,” Bruce said, trailing a hand along the concrete wall as he and Jeremiah wound their way to the interior of the underground bunker.

“Thanks. I have a 1:64 scale model of it if you want to see it.”

“Sure. So, it’s a maze and not a labyrinth then?”

“Well, a labyrinth leads you to the center and back out in a fairly straightforward way. A maze is much more difficult to crack and depending upon where you turn you’ll end up at a dead end. In theory, if you panic you may never find your way out of a maze. You’re meant to get out of a labyrinth.”

Once inside his lab, Jeremiah unlocked one of the file cabinets along the left wall and lifted the scale model out, placing it on the worktable in front of his guest. He moved across the room to check his security monitors and then stopped at his bookcase to pour two fingers of scotch into his glass.

“Bruce?” He gestured to the decanter and the younger man nodded in agreement as he went back to studying the fascinating miniature maze.

“To new acquaintances?” Jeremiah offered.

“To new _beginnings_ ,” Bruce countered, holding Jeremiah’s gaze and clinking their glasses.

“New beginnings,” Jeremiah echoed, smiling shyly before tapping Bruce’s glass in return.

“This is just so,” Bruce sipped and continued talking, “expansive. It’s pretty complicated.”

“You could say that,” Jeremiah laughed. “It has 73 dead ends, but I’m sure _you_ could figure it out. You strike me as not only very smart but tenacious. You wouldn’t give up on something important to you until you found a solution. Am I right?”

“Yeah. I definitely don't give up easily. If I really put my mind to it, I bet I could figure it out. But, I’m not sure I’d want to. You built it very deliberately for your own security. But I appreciate you showing me the details like this. It must have taken a while to get it right.”

“Yeah. I had a few iterations of it before I was satisfied.” He shrugged and sipped his drink. “It took a while to build, too. But I’d be more than happy to show you the most direct ways in and out. In case, you know, you ever want to come by again.”

Bruce smiled. “Maybe that’s a good idea. I’m sure I’ll come by again.”

The two young men reviewed the paths of the maze, Jeremiah tapping at the appropriate junctures with a carpenter pencil and describing landmarks - cameras, etched symbols, and slight color differences in the lighting and concrete and - until Bruce was confident he knew at least two ways to get in and out of the bunker.

“Feels like a fortress.”

Jeremiah looked down at the model in front of Bruce. “Yes, I suppose it is. And I’ve been here six years now. Maybe I don’t need it anymore.”

“I think it suits you.”

“In what way?” Jeremiah smirked, “overwrought?”

Bruce thought for a moment. “No, complex. Unique.”

 **_Jackpot_ ** **.** **_He got you right where you live, brother. Always needing to feel special, be different, blah blah blah. Face it, you always wanted to be_ ** **_me_** ** _._ **

The two men stared at each other, Jeremiah stunned by how Bruce just seemed to get who he was. The redhead sighed and leaned into the table, grimacing when he ended up digging his bruised side into its metal corner.

“Let me look.” Bruce asked, putting down his drink and breaching Jeremiah’s personal space. The other man didn’t move away, but looked askance at his guest.

“Um, Dr. Wayne,” he tried for levity, “you traveled through a maze just to cure what ails me?” But his voice was too tremulous to successfully pull off the humor and he had to clear his throat.

“Dr. Wayne. It’s got a nice ring to it,” Bruce chuckled. “Seriously though, l’ve been hurt during training enough times in the last couple years to recognize whether you should see someone tomorrow. ” Bruce gestured at Jeremiah’s shirt. “Would you mind?”

Jeremiah just nodded and put his drink aside. When Bruce gestured vaguely in his direction again the redhead tugged his sweater vest over his head and pulled his shirttails out of his dress pants. Then, his own curiosity getting the best of him, he opened the bottom two buttons, lifted the shirt and twisted to the left to check his bruised side out for himself.

“Don’t. You won’t be able to see without a mirror and you’ll just strain it more. Here.” Bruce took over, raising the shirttails high enough to expose most of Jeremiah’s midsection. The bruising from his waist to a few inches below his left armpit was a livid purple. “Holy cow. Okay, does this hurt?” He gently pressed against the darkest part of the bruise and Jeremiah sucked a breath in through his teeth.

“Ow, yes.”

“What about this?” Bruce moved his fingers to palpate the area nearest Jeremiah’s ribs. It didn’t seem like anything there was out of place; Bruce had broken more than one rib in the past and knew what they felt like. Jeremiah had a much better reaction to that touch.

“Not…not as much. So, not my ribs? I guess?” In response, Bruce pushed a little harder around the perimeter until he got a hiss out of his pseudo patient.

“Okay, ow. Do you have malpractice insurance?”

Bruce originally only meant to verify that Jeremiah was not badly hurt. When it was clear the ginger was truly only bruised, Bruce lost his head thanks to the alcohol and the feel of the other man’s bare skin.

“Well, I don’t think you broke a rib. Could be cracked, I suppose, but that would heal on its own.” He trailed his hands around a little further to the back, now unabashedly staring at Jeremiah’s surprisingly muscular torso.

Jeremiah blushed hotly when he realized Bruce was literally checking him out, but he stood still and held on to the edge of the table, breath quickening.

 **_Do you need a playbook, Jer? C’mon. If he was checking_ ** **_me_ ** **_out like that, I’d flip him over that sturdy desk of yours and fuck his brains out_** **.**

Bruce met Jeremiah’s eyes and sensing no resistance, quickly went back to what he was doing. He stroked the man’s flank and felt the muscles contract when Jeremiah tensed in expectation of Bruce’s next touch. “I don’t think he got you in the kidney either. Your left kidney is situated here,” he slowly dragged his fingers over a spot to the left of his spine. “And the liver is thankfully, you know, on the uninjured side.”

“Thankfully,” Jeremiah echoed. He closed his eyes, hyper aware of Bruce’s position and scent as the younger man circled him and continued his gentle exploration, now smoothing his hands along the unbruised half of his torso . Heat pooled low in Jeremiah’s belly; he’d spent the better part of the night half-hard and now, with Bruce’s hands all over him like this, he was more aroused than he could ever remember being. His breath hitched and his stomach muscles quivered as warm fingertips skimmed over a particularly sensitive spot.

That was the moment Bruce knew he could have stopped; maybe apologize for “tickling” Jeremiah or something similarly harmless. But Bruce was hard as a rock, his heart was racing, and he couldn’t stop touching that smooth skin and firm muscle. After circling back to his original position in front of the man, he let the shirt drop but kept his hands underneath on Jeremiah’s bare skin.

“I’m ready to give my diagnosis,” he said in a husky voice, rubbing his thumbs in circles above the waistband of Jeremiah’s pants, near his hip bones.

Dazed, Jeremiah forced his eyes open at the change in Bruce’s tone. For a moment, he had no idea what Bruce was talking about; he’d lost track of what started this.

**_Don’tcha remember? Playing doctor with the Wayne boy. Jeez, get with the program._ **

“Hmm? _Diagnosis_. Right,” he said on a long exhale.

“So, in my professional opinion, it’s just muscle strain. Probably all you need is a little time. Since you’re obviously already in great shape…” he squeezed Jeremiah’s waist and then seemed to forget what he was saying for a moment, heat coloring his cheeks. “Uh, tomorrow you can probably ice it.” He stroked over the bruised area. “Tonight, though...I think all you need is a little TLC.”

Bruce looked at the redhead with such undisguised want, Jeremiah could barely breathe. He gave up trying to suppress his own lust for the young man.

“Bruce?”

Not knowing how to ask for what he wanted or even what he was _supposed_ to want at this point, whispering the boy’s name would simply have to do.

Bruce leaned in and rested his forehead against Jeremiah’s, guiding the redhead back against the nearest bookcase. Jeremiah’s hands fisted in Bruce’s sweater, tugging him closer until the two of them had nowhere left to go.

Jeremiah let his eyes fall shut again, marveling at the solidness of Bruce’s body against his own. He’d fantasized what it might be like, the beautiful Wayne boy paying attention to him, even going for drinks and exchanging numbers, but this? This was almost beyond Jeremiah’s ability to process. The deep-seated ache he’d felt all night between his hips had sharpened like nothing he’d ever known and all he wanted was _more_ ; more contact, more pressure, more _Bruce_ , so he bent his knees slightly to bring himself to Bruce’s height and shoved his hands up the back of Bruce’s sweater to touch bare skin.

Bruce hummed in agreement before laying his cheek against Jeremiah’s, then pressing his lips to the curve of his jaw. When Bruce pulled back slightly to look Jeremiah in the eye, the redhead stared owlishly back at him, waiting. He pointed to Jeremiah’s eyeglasses and when Jeremiah nodded, Bruce slid the glasses off and placed them on the nearest shelf.

**_Of course. Those eyeglasses are so much more important than gettin’ laid.  You’re such a prissy thing, I wouldn’t be surprised if…_ **

Bruce tilted his head and captured the other man’s lips in a soft, open mouthed kiss, lightly holding the back of Jeremiah’s neck with one hand and his shoulder with the other.

**_[...]_ **

Jeremiah’s posture stiffened for a few seconds but then he began to tentatively kiss Bruce back. Initially, he barely moved his lips, letting Bruce do the work and guide him. But that soon wasn’t enough for him so he tried mirroring Bruce’s movements and cadence. When he started getting the hang of it, Bruce slowed to a complete stop and then started over, this time gently cupping Jeremiah’s face in his hands.

Jeremiah finally let himself relax into the kiss and Bruce made a small sound of approval, sliding his hands to Jeremiah’s shoulders and squeezing gently to encourage him. Jeremiah’s hands restlessly trailed from spot to spot under Bruce’s sweater, up his back, along his sides, on his waist.

When Bruce carefully slipped his tongue between Jeremiah’s parted lips, it was like a low voltage electrical current went straight to both men’s cocks. Bruce’s hips twitched and Jeremiah moaned longingly into Bruce’s mouth, holding on as if afraid someone would pry him away.

The two men shuffled from the bookcase to the more sturdy blackboard wall, Jeremiah oblivious to the fact that on the way they’d dislodged and completely crushed a blueprint he’d painstakingly spent hours on earlier in the week. Jeremiah was officially a wreck; sweaty palms, racing heart, kisses growing wet and sloppy.

When Bruce turned them, pushed Jeremiah up against the nearby door frame and ground against him, the redhead surprisingly asserted himself, nipping at Bruce’s bottom lip before latching onto the boy’s neck just under his jaw and grinding back.

Apparently taking that as a signal to progress from making out to more daring territory, Bruce lowered himself to his knees directly in front of Jeremiah.

All the air left the redhead’s lungs and he stared at Bruce in shock.

“Bruce, what...” The words died on his tongue when Bruce pressed his cheek against the bulge in Jeremiah’s pants, holding onto the back of his thighs. Jeremiah initially froze and then placed shaky hands on Bruce’s head.

“You don’t, uh....” he croaked, but his protest seemed to conflict with the way he was petting Bruce’s hair.

“Shh. I want to.” Bruce turned his face slightly and mouthed hotly along the other man’s erection. “Is this okay?”

“Oh God. Yes…but,” he tugged at Bruce’s hair. “Bruce, I want...”

“I know,” Bruce whispered. “Me too.”

Bruce turned his face up and met Jeremiah’s eyes, and Jeremiah knew he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life, even if the view _was_ a little fuzzy around the edges without his glasses.

“Today is my birthday,” the younger man murmured. His words vibrated against Jeremiah’s crotch.

“Is th-that right?” Jeremiah stammered, threading his fingers into the boy’s dark locks and absently tugging, making Bruce shiver. “You should have said so.” He took a deep, shuddering breath and leaned back against the door frame. “I don’t have anything for you.”

Bruce rubbed his cheek against the outline of Jeremiah’s hard cock again. “Oh, I’m pretty sure you do.”

“Oh God,” he choked out a half-groan, half-laugh with Bruce still rubbing him through his pants. As his legs started to tremble, he finally found his voice. “You know, I have a perfectly good bed in the next room, right?”

Bruce came back to himself, realizing just how unfair he was being to Jeremiah, clearly moving too fast.

“I mean,” Jeremiah continued with a shaky laugh, “tile floor and all. Must be cold and can’t be, uh, very comfortable…” he trailed off, still trying to convince himself that he wanted Bruce to stop.

Bruce peeled himself away and stood up, hurriedly apologizing into Jeremiah’s ear. “I’m so sorry...I don’t know what I was thinking, getting carried away like that…”

“So polite,” Jeremiah murmured. He put his arms clumsily over Bruce’s shoulders and stared at him. “Please don’t be sorry. You surprised me, that’s all. I’ve never, um...I just need a minute.”

“I shouldn’t have.” Bruce flushed, embarrassed at charging ahead without clearer signals.  

“No, it’s okay. I’m not used to getting this much attention,” Jeremiah laughed, legs a little like jello. “At least let’s move to where it’s a little warmer and we can...do whatever, okay?” Still trembling, Jeremiah bit his lower lip and tilted his head toward a closed door on the other side of the lab.

Bruce's smile was strained, worried that he’d screwed the whole night up. “You sure? We’re not going to have to go back through the maze to get to your room, are we?” Jeremiah rolled his eyes and squeezed Bruce’s shoulder. 

“I couldn’t find my way out of a paper bag right now,” the redhead mused, taking Bruce by the hand.  “No way are we going out into the maze.”

*****

Jeremiah had yet to realize that the mocking voice in his head had fallen silent right around the time he and Bruce shared their first kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boys have a little chat in the next chapter and their relationship progresses accordingly.


	4. Becoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Jeremiah have a chat, Bruce speculates on the reason they met in the first place, and Jeremiah makes a bold decision without second guessing himself.
> 
> Note: Explicit sex and graphic language here and in Chapter 5. Jeremiah is 24 and Bruce is 18 but I’ve updated the tags to include 'Underage' anyway because the actor is 17 at the time of this posting and some readers may be uncomfortable with that. Feel free to replace with Reader Insert/Mary Sue/OC, or a different iteration of Bruce Wayne if it helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We should go to sleep now, You should stay the night  
> I'll be up to watch the world around us live and die  
> Lying on the grass now, dancing for the stars  
> Maybe one will look on down and tell us who we are  
> We might fall, we might fall, we might fall...
> 
> \- Ryan Star, "We Might Fall"

The room was sparse but serviceable; nondescript. The only traces of Jeremiah were evident in the rows of physics and chemistry textbooks next to dog-eared sci-fi paperbacks and rolled up blueprints on his low bookcase. A lamp on the nightstand, controlled by a switch near the door, illuminated a neatly made bed. Black rosary beads hung from a corner of the headboard. A simple wooden dresser stood against the wall, above which hung “Xander Wilde’s” awards and degrees.

No personal photos of any sort were displayed.

Bruce scanned the room quickly, not looking for longer than would seem polite, before turning attention back to the room's owner.

Jeremiah had backed up to close his bedroom door and was simply observing Bruce.

“Jeremiah…I,” Bruce started.

“Bruce, wait. Let me just get this out. As you must have noticed, I don’t have much experience.” The redhead paused and shrugged. “Okay, _any,_ experience.”

Bruce approached him slowly. “I think I gave you the wrong impression of who I am, Jeremiah.” The other man raised an eyebrow but made no reply. “I’m not really all that experienced either. I mean, sure,” he stopped about a foot away and shrugged, “I’ve made out a few times, mostly with girls, one or two guys. So, I guess you could say I know how that goes.”

Jeremiah leaned against the door. “Obviously.”

“But what I did with you just a few minutes ago?” Bruce’s cheeks pinked up in embarrassment, and he held his hands up, palms out. “I’ve _never_ done anything like that before, much less actually gone through with it. I mean, not that I _wouldn’t_ have gone through with it,” he backtracked, “I totally would have, _will,_  if we get that far.” He huffed a frustrated breath; this wasn’t coming out right at all. “But I don’t want you to think I act like that with everyone I go on a date with.”

“Date, huh?” He crossed his arms and took a step closer to Bruce. “That’s a relief. I’m glad you caught on to my clumsy attempt to ask you out. I mean, I still meant it to be a date even though you ate all the mushrooms off my pizza and stole the check. Although,” he paused, stroking his chin. “Technically you offered me a ride before all of that. So maybe that means you asked _me_ out.”

Jeremiah’s teasing made Bruce’s heart lighter and he relaxed his shoulders.

“So, you’re not put off by how forward I was?”

“Bruce. I never said I was. It felt to me like I was participating out there, yeah?” Bruce nodded. “I freaked out for a minute and wanted to slow down, not kick you out or anything.”

“Okay, because I still feel like I…”

Bruce’s words were cut off when Jeremiah, who had slowly closed the distance between them, caressed Bruce’s cheek before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“We’re good,” he whispered against Bruce’s mouth. “I’ll catch up, I promise. Please, just,” he looked away and laughed self-consciously, “go easy on me, okay? I'm a late bloomer.”

Bruce wrapped his arms around Jeremiah’s waist. “Listen to me,” he said, letting their foreheads touch. “There’s no pressure, Jeremiah. We don’t have to do anything. Or we can do everything. Or whatever. Ugh, I need to shut _up_.”

“Yeah. Okay.”  Jeremiah was smiling, definitely more relaxed. “Can we sit on the bed, though? Thanks to you my legs are still a little wobbly. That is, if I didn't totally kill the mood. You still want to hang out?”

“Do I still want to hang out? You’re kidding, right?” Bruce took Jeremiah’s wrist and tugged him over to the bed. “God, I wish I could explain to you what’s been going on in my head.”

Jeremiah sat next to Bruce and gestured for him to go on.

“Okay, I’m probably going to really scare you now.”

“Oh, great,” Jeremiah chuckled. He fiddled with his mostly-unknotted tie and then took it off, tossing it onto the nightstand and popping open the top two buttons of his shirt as he listened.

“What I mean is...I’ve literally been drawn to you ever since we met earlier today. I didn’t want the day to end, even with the chaos that was happening around us. It's so odd, it just felt like even then we were becoming something separate from the chaos. And I feel like even if today’s circumstances hadn’t brought us together, we would still have met somehow. And we would have hit it off right away too, just like today. Maybe it's not logical but something in me says there is a _reason_ we met.”

Jeremiah’s expression grew thoughtful, and Bruce continued.

“You think I’m talking crazy." He rolled his eyes. "I'm only 18, I probably shouldn’t drink, blah blah blah.”

”I don’t think you’re talking crazy, though I’m not sure I’m the best judge of mental health,” the redhead deadpanned. “But, honestly?” At Bruce’s nod he went on. “All I know is I was attracted to you from the moment you showed up here today with Captain Gordon and that forensics dude, Fox. I only agreed to help because you impressed me so much. I mean, look, I’ve been living underground for years hiding from my brother. You walk in and I’m suddenly putting on my jacket to go out and confront him like some kind of superhero? That was all you, Bruce. You have this inner strength;  very brave and so serious, someone who does the right thing no matter the cost. It's strangely appealing. Well, that and the fact that you’re also cute as hell so, yeah.”

Bruce noticed an adorable flush creeping up Jeremiah’s throat now that his collar was open.

“Cute as hell, huh?”

“Well...if I’m being completely honest?” He hesitated. “You’re _beautiful_.”

Bruce was shocked into silence.

“Oh shit, that was too much, wasn’t it?”

“N-no. It’s just, I’ve never been called that before.”

“What, _beautiful_?” Bruce nodded. “Well, that’s a crime then,” Jeremiah leaned over and gently kissed him. When Bruce sighed, Jeremiah took the opportunity to softly lick into his mouth and deepen the kiss. Bruce put his arms around the redhead and made a pleased noise in the back of his throat.

When Jeremiah pulled back, he whispered, “because you _are_. So. Damn. Beautiful.”

He flopped back on the bed, taking Bruce with him. “After all is said and done, you know I’m going to let you have your wicked way with me, right?”

“Maybe it will be the other way around, Mr. Brilliant Science Guy,” Bruce laughed. “You’ve been such a quick study in the kissing department, after all.”

“It’s like I told you at dinner,” Jeremiah smirked. "‘Pretty smart’ and ‘applies himself’.”

*****

“Jesus,” Jeremiah murmured, propping himself up on his elbow, after the two of them had done a little more talking, a lot more kissing, and a fair amount of clothing removal. “Could you be any more perfect?” He ran a finger along the length of Bruce’s throat and down his sternum. The other man watched him, pupils blown, trembling slightly from holding himself back. Bruce was determined to be more aware this time; more considerate of Jeremiah's pace.

Finally daring to touch Bruce, Jeremiah glanced up to make eye contact with him as he pressed his palm against the hot, firm bulge in the younger man’s black jeans. It was surreal to be able to finally touch another man like this, though Jeremiah had known for more than half his life that he was gay. Staying underground for six years didn't give you much chance to meet other guys. At one point, he wondered if he ever would. He carefully massaged Bruce’s hard cock through the denim as the younger man made pretty noises and stared at him like he’d hung the moon.

“God, Jeremiah, your hands.” Bruce whimpered.

“Just getting you back for earlier.”

“Would you…please...”

“Would I what? Take these down for you? I don’t know, would I?” the redhead smirked, starting to feel a lot more confident.

“Hmmph. Now who’s being a tease, Valeska?” But Bruce was giving Jeremiah that adorable smile - and there was no way he wanted to miss out on that smile.

With far steadier hands than he'd have had earlier in the evening, Jeremiah opened Bruce’s belt and unzipped the fly, and very slowly eased the jeans off him; the younger man eagerly lifted his hips to help, leaving himself clad only in black boxer briefs. The buckle thudded dully against the floor as the jeans landed near the pile of earlier discarded clothing and shoes.

Bruce gave Jeremiah a pointed look and the older man rolled his eyes but stripped down to his own boxers, tossing his pants in the general direction of the tangled pile next to the bed.

“That’s better. May I?” Bruce asked huskily. He slid his hands up Jeremiah’s chest and pushed lightly until he rolled him onto his back. Immediately, Bruce straddled him. But he waited, hovering on his knees.

"What?" Jeremiah looked inquisitively at Bruce, looked over his positioning, and laughed. "Okay, okay. I get it. You're waiting for permission. Jesus. Yes, whatever it is. Don't keep me in suspense."

Bruce winked and then dropped, grinding their erections together.

Groaning obscenely, which was exactly the response the young man wanted, Jeremiah grabbed Bruce’s ass and thrust up against him before holding him still. “God help me, I am in so much trouble here.”

With a wicked smile, Bruce climbed a little further up Jeremiah’s body and flicked the man’s plump lower lip with the tip of his tongue. “Now that I have your complete attention, in case you somehow missed it, I think you’re totally hot. Brilliant and sweet, with hella gorgeous lips and a wonderful smile and definitely what you've got going on right here...”

Bringing his hands up to bracket Bruce’s face, Jeremiah cut him off with a long, slow kiss.

“Speaking of which, didn’t you say you wanted that for your birthday, _beautiful_?” he whispered, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt.

“Mmm hmm,” Bruce nodded and wriggled his ass against Jeremiah. “So, you're alright with me picking up where I left off earlier?”

“Mmm hmm," the redhead mimicked playfully.

Unlike the hissing and humming of equipment which had been the backdrop in the lab, here the only sounds were heavy breathing and low moans and whispers. Bruce kissed and tasted his way around the redhead’s chest and stomach, still being really careful with the bruised area that was now starting to change color. There were a good number of freckles on the man’s body that he’d need to spend time counting some day, but Bruce's main focus was to get back to touching Jeremiah the way he had out in the lab...this time though, with only his pale blue boxers in the way. By the time Bruce was done alternating between slowly stroking Jeremiah's seven inches through the shorts and sucking playfully on the pre-cum soaked cotton that was just below the waist band, the redhead broke down and begged Bruce for mercy.

"I think this is where we're supposed to use our words," Bruce murmured, not wanting to get it wrong again. Jeremiah looked at him like he was crazy; like what else could he _possibly_ be asking for.

Jeremiah made a frustrated noise, and then started to laugh. "I have to actually say it or you won't?"

"Yes."

"Please suck me off?"

A tiny part of Bruce was terrified, but the overriding feeling he had was elation. Getting Jeremiah out of his boxers had Bruce literally drooling. When he ran the flat of his tongue up the underside of Jeremiah’s thick cock and took the flushed head in his mouth, the man nearly launched off the mattress. Bruce took that as a good sign and slowly took in more of Jeremiah’s length, stroking the rest of it as best he could. Bruce's mind wandered for a moment, being grateful that Alfred always had the kitchen stocked with fresh vegetables. At least secretly practicing with zucchini had really come in handy.

Jeremiah tried raising himself up on his elbows to watch, but that proved too visually stimulating and he dropped back down with a defeated groan. He desperately tried to keep his hips still so he wouldn't push himself into Bruce’s throat. He settled for threading his fingers into Bruce's hair and moaning his name along with a breathless mix of _oh God, please, more,_ and _don’t stop_.  

Since the two of them had been on edge the whole night, it didn’t take long for an urgent whimper and a particularly hard tug of his hair to get Bruce's attention. He understood that to be part of the universal language for “I’m coming, so get your face out of the way.”

So of course Bruce did exactly the opposite.

Bruce hummed in acknowledgement but stayed right where he was, coaxing a quiet, shuddering orgasm from Jeremiah. Bruce managed not to choke to death, tears leaking out as he tried to swallow around him only to pull off at the last moment to cough as discreetly as he could. As he gently stroked Jeremiah through the aftershocks, Bruce grabbed the edge of the top sheet and wiped his mouth (and Jeremiah’s stomach, right where that auburn treasure trail started up below his navel) of whatever he hadn’t managed to swallow, before crawling up to settle on the pillow and take a breath.

Jeremiah was close to tears himself but for a different reason. He blinked back the wetness threatening to spill while he recovered, chiding himself not to overthink. He braced himself for the usual humiliating thoughts to break through. What would it be this time? He shouldn’t have feelings for Bruce so soon, or at all; that sex was sex and didn’t mean anything; that he should just be an adult and not become emotionally attached to the first man who'd touched him; that someone like Bruce Wayne could never love someone like _him_ anyway.

But none of that happened.

As he lay there panting, he finally realized that the mocking voice in his head had been silent.

It had been silent for  _hours_.

So, Jeremiah turned toward Bruce as soon as he could function again. He kissed the younger man deeply, humming in curiosity at tasting himself on Bruce’s tongue. Bruce melted in his arms and pulled himself as close to the other man as he could.

“You...” huffed Jeremiah when they finally came up for air. “Just. Wow.” Bruce, flushed and sweaty, smiled with a certain measure of pride and curled into the redhead. Jeremiah wrapped an arm around him and mumbled something into his hair that Bruce didn’t quite catch.

“What?” He leaned up on an elbow and noticed Jeremiah suddenly looked a little uncomfortable.

“I said, uh... _thank..._ you,” not looking directly at Bruce.

Bruce hiccuped a nervous laugh and said, “No thanks are necessary. So I guess it was okay?”

“Bruce...” Jeremiah pulled him into a fierce full-body hug. “Oh God, Bruce. _Way_ better than okay.”

When he finally let go he sat up to properly admire his companion’s lithe body.

“So, is it my turn now?” he smiled, cupping Bruce’s cheek; the younger man was so pale and pretty and still obviously hard. “Can I touch you?”

“Please,” Bruce sighed, guiding Jeremiah’s hand down to his cock.

“What would you...” Jeremiah started to ask but Bruce cut him off.

“Anything, Jeremiah. Or everything. I just want _you_.”

The plaintive tone of Bruce’s voice stirred something dark and possessive deep within Jeremiah. It was a new and strange sensation and admittedly a little scary. He didn’t know what to do with that feeling, so he pushed it away like so many other thoughts he hadn’t wanted to deal with over the course of his lifetime. He'd think about it later.

Jeremiah kissed him again before straddling Bruce’s hips, finding the most comfortable way to access from Bruce’s neck all the way down to his leaking cock. He studied Bruce and then began tasting his way down the boy’s beautiful body.

It didn’t take long to get the reactions he’d hoped for; licking and nibbling the throbbing pulse point in the boy’s neck, raising light bruises by sucking along the pale skin of his throat and shoulders; Bruce was writhing in the sheets and making high, breathy moans.

At a particularly ticklish spot on his rib cage, Bruce gasped and shook in pleasure when Jeremiah not only kept stroking the skin but bit gently on the nearby nipple, tugging it upward in time with his feathery touches. When he finally made his way to the young man’s stomach, dipping his tongue in and out of his navel, Bruce literally twitched, pre-cum dribbling from his rosy cock.

Unable to wait any longer, he sat back on his heels and began lapping at the fluid beading up at the tip of Bruce’s erection. The young man cried out and clutched the back of Jeremiah’s head for purchase. Jeremiah licked and sucked along the young man's perfect shaft, moaning around Bruce’s cock when he took it into his mouth and felt the weight of the organ against his tongue. Jesus Christ, he could get used to this.

“Jeremiah?”

He looked up from what he was doing and met Bruce’s dark blue eyes, half lidded and full of affection. He slowly stroked Bruce’s cock as he slid his mouth off with a wet pop.

“Everything okay Bruce?” he asked, voice wrecked, and he propped his chin on the jut of Bruce’s left hip.

“Yeah, just so close.”

“Isn’t that the idea?” Jeremiah smiled, splaying a hand over Bruce’s flat stomach, lightly squeezing the base of Bruce’s cock with the other to let him catch his breath.

“Yeah, I know,” the dark haired boy laughed as he studied Jeremiah’s handsome features, adorably different now with his wet, rosy lips, pink cheeks, and mussed hair.

Jeremiah was contemplative for a moment, holding Bruce’s gaze and feeling a sense of peace; there had been hours of silence in his head, and nothing to make him second guess his choices. How freeing.

“So, did you want to,” he paused, searching for the right words and not wanting to be vulgar, “finish inside me?”

“Wait. You want me to..." Bruce stared at him, heart rate spiking. 

"What was that about using our words, Bruce?"

Bruce couldn't stop the laugh from bubbling up. "Jerk."

"Oh that's nice." Jeremiah whacked Bruce with a pillow, which just made him laugh harder.

"Are you sure?”

“Jesus, yes. Fuck me. Before we get old.”

After all, that inner voice was nowhere to be found.


	5. Belonging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After sharing a whole lot of intimacy and not a whole lot of sleep, the boys come to similar but separate conclusions about their feelings for each other. And a bonus bout of lovemaking in the morning helps them figure out what they might really want from each other in bed. 
> 
> Tiny amount of plot, but mostly just Bruce and Jeremiah doing the deed.
> 
> Same warnings as previous chapter - explicit sex and graphic language. Bruce is 18 in the story, but if you can't see him as an adult, feel free to make him a reader insert or proceed with caution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wake me up inside  
> Wake me up inside  
> Call my name and save me from the dark  
> Bid my blood to run  
> Before I come undone  
> Save me from the nothing I've become
> 
> \- Evanescence, "Bring Me To Life"

Jeremiah hung over the side of the bed, rifling through the bottom drawer of the nightstand.

“Don’t tell me you have supplies. How? You live a bunker.”

“Ecco keeps me stocked with anything I could potentially need. She even keeps track of expiration dates.” Jeremiah’s voice was muffled against his arm, but Bruce had no trouble understanding him.

“That’s freakin’ creepy, I’m sorry.”

“What?” The redhead bounced back up. “What’s creepy?”

“Your assistant buying you lube and condoms. Totally creepy.”

“Honestly,” Jeremiah said quietly, as though afraid Ecco would hear him. “She had a thing for me awhile back until I told her I was gay. I think she’d originally started buying these in case she and I got together. And now she just replaces the expired ones to keep up appearances. I might be a virgin, but I’m not a blind virgin.”

That actually made a lot of sense to Bruce, the woman saving face after rejection. He felt a little flare of jealousy at her closeness with Jeremiah.

“We could skip the condoms though, right? I haven’t been with anyone before.”

“Wow. Yeah, okay. Me neither. Obviously.” Jeremiah tossed the lube to Bruce and dropped the box of rubbers over the side of the bed.

“You know, I’m already gonna be super close, right?” Bruce laughed. “I mean, _hormones_ , hello. This isn’t going to be a marathon.”

“Shhh. Don't care. Just do _something_ , Bruce,” Jeremiah teased, turning over and giving Bruce a view of his absolutely perfect ass.

Distracting himself with Jeremiah’s freckles, (and just how does a guy living underground without seeing the light of day for six years have so many darn freckles anyway?), Bruce snapped open the lube and slicked up his fingers. He’d done this to himself a few dozen times; he understood the mechanics but stretching out someone else was a little nerve-wracking.

“Okay?”

“You’re fine,” Jeremiah grunted, shifting onto his knees to give Bruce more room. One finger quickly became two, which is when Jeremiah started to make a low keen in his throat.

“Just let me know when you want..."

“More,” Jeremiah interrupted immediately, voice strained.

"...more,” Bruce huffed out a laugh. "Got it."

Trembling with excitement, Bruce kept one hand on the small of Jeremiah’s back, fucking Jeremiah with three fingers now, twisting and scissoring to further loosen him up. The older boy sat back on his haunches, eagerly pushing down onto Bruce’s hand. 

“Bruce, please,” he groaned.

Easing out, Bruce wiped his fingers off on the sheet, slicked himself up and leaned over to speak directly in the redhead’s ear.

“Ready?” He was barely audible above their panting.

Jeremiah groaned and pushed back, making contact with the head of Bruce’s cock. Both boys moaned and then Bruce lined up and pushed. He’d prepped Jeremiah fairly well, and Bruce was also fairly average-sized; once he made it past the initial ring of muscle, he easily worked his cock into Jeremiah.

“Jesus Christ,” Jeremiah murmured. Bruce stroked the man’s flank as he withdrew halfway, checking to see if the redhead was okay. Jeremiah’s frantic head nod and a swift thrust backward was his answer, burying Bruce’s cock again.

“So gorgeous when you’re greedy, Miah,” Bruce moaned, slowly moving in and out and picking up the pace, rubbing Jeremiah’s back, mesmerized at the sight of his cock disappearing into his hole.

“Get used to it _Brucie_ ,” Jeremiah chuckled breathlessly. “Faster, please. God, so good.”

Soon, Bruce’s fingers were pressing bruises into Jeremiah’s hips, shoving himself forward to meet Jeremiah every time he thrust back until they had a pretty quick pace going; both of them panting and moaning like whores.

“Fuck, I can’t,” Bruce groaned when he could sense Jeremiah stroking himself to match Bruce’s thrusts and then they were both coming, Jeremiah first - shaking like a leaf and mewling into the pillow - and Bruce yelling a shocked, “Shit!” when Jeremiah’s ass repeatedly squeezed his cock.   

As soon as he caught his breath again, Bruce kissed the back of Jeremiah’s neck. "Amazing."

“Mmm hmm.”

“You alright?”

“Mmm hmm,” Jeremiah hummed into the crook of his elbow again. "Wore me out." When he realized Bruce was still hovering, he snorted. “You can lay on me, you know. I’m not gonna break, Bruce.”

Bruce lowered onto Jeremiah’s back. “Better?”

“Much.” After a few minutes, when Bruce made to get up, Jeremiah shook his head. “Stay there.”

“Okay. But I bet you’re gonna be annoyed in a few minutes when that puddle you’re lying in cools off.”

“Point.” He let out a sigh, and turned his head to rest his cheek on his crossed arms. “I just don’t want either of us to move.”

“Where’s your bathroom, lazy bones?”

Jeremiah huffed a tiny laugh and looked over his left shoulder at Bruce. “Second door.”

Bruce moved back just a bit, his now soft cock slipping all the way out. “Sorry,” he whispered when the redhead made a noise of complaint.

“S’ok.”

When he returned from the bathroom, he cleaned up his partner and the wet sheet with a warm washcloth and towel.

“You’re so sweet. What side of the bed do you want?”

“The dry side?”

“Very funny.” Jeremiah fully sat up and took hold of Bruce’s wrist. “Seriously, stay the rest of the night?”

He leaned down and kissed the redhead tenderly. “Thanks, I'd like that. I just need to call Alfred and let him know that I won’t be making an appearance after all.” He paused. “Hey. Any idea where my pants are?”

*****

“So, I have something to tell you, Jeremiah.”

Even in the mostly dark room, Bruce could see the way Jeremiah seemed to stiffen; the way his eyes glinted in suspicion. Then the man deflated in resignation.

“Yes?”

“I snore like a lumberjack, or so I’m told." Bruce rolled his eyes as he added, "Sleep like the dead, but sound like a chainsaw.”

“Oh. Wait. That's what you wanted to tell me?” An almost hysterical laugh escaped. “I thought...never mind."

“Yeah, that look on your face. What did you think I was going to say, Miah?” Bruce slid a little closer so they were pressed together side by side.

“Snoring isn’t a problem,” he answered, the laugh gone. He ignored Bruce’s question. “Glad you’re a sound sleeper. I rarely sleep well. I never get more than 4 hours. I toss and turn, so I’ll probably randomly wake you up by poking you with an elbow.”

“If you’re going to wake me up, make it count and poke me with something better than your elbow.”

Jeremiah kissed Bruce, slipping his tongue into his mouth with a hand on his neck, his thumb stroking Bruce's throat in an oddly possessive way that made the younger man shiver.

“Careful what you wish for, Mr. Wayne. I just might do.”

“Hope so,” Bruce whispered. “Now tell me what you thought I was gonna say before.”

“it’s nothing, let’s get some sleep.”

“No way. Not the way you reacted. Talk to me.”

Jeremiah sighed, laying back again to look at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I thought that you might tell me this was all an elaborate prank. Maybe something my brother put you up to.” He shrugged. “My self-esteem is still catching up.”

“Oh my God, is that what you think of me?” Bruce started to sit up.

“No! No, not... _you._ Anyone. I mean...why would anyone be with me?” Bruce’s stomach clenched at Jeremiah’s tone of voice. It was so flat, so emotionless.

“Hey.”

He looked at the younger man, the tiny blue sliver of light from the alarm clock illuminating Bruce’s earnest features. “I don’t know what’s happened in your past...”

“Not much,” Jeremiah chuckled, halfheartedly.

“...but this is _our_ new beginning. Remember our toast?”

“Yeah. It’s just…” he slid his arm under Bruce, who curled into his chest automatically, a perfect fit.

“All my life, I never felt like I belonged anywhere. Imagine having an identical twin who was more interesting, more attractive, more _everything_ than you ever were and then getting shipped away from your family in 5th grade. Until I hired Ecco, I’d been alone. Then living down here, isolated. Where would I fit in? Do I belong anyplace? I’m a mistake. Not even a full person. A split zygote.”

“Jesus, you’re not a mistake. And you found where you belong. Right here. With me. We belong with each other now. _Especially_ now, you know?”

In the dark, Bruce could see the smile that Jeremiah had so rarely given, an unguarded, hopeful smile that Bruce wanted to see on the man’s face every day.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Bruce blurted out.

“I don’t know?” Jeremiah said honestly. “I didn’t believe I’d meet anyone at all, never mind find my soulmate. You think that’s even a thing?” There was such an expectant look in his eyes, it almost broke Bruce’s heart.

“I think there’s a chance, you know. Like I said earlier tonight, two people that met under really bizarre circumstances and just ‘clicked’ like we have? Like we’ve known each other forever? A sense of belonging to each other might be like what having a soulmate feels like.” He shrugged and then let out a long yawn, hand flying to his mouth in embarrassment.

“You need to go to sleep.”

“You too, though.”

“Yeah, I’ll probably lay here for awhile, but that’s what I do. You get to sleep. I’m interested in hearing what it’s like to have a boyfriend who snores.”

“Boyfriend. I like that,” Bruce settled into the crook of Jeremiah’s arm.

*****

Both of them actually slept pretty well. Jeremiah did wake up a couple of times, but it was more due to the strangeness of someone in his bed than because he couldn’t actually sleep. 

The last time he woke, around 6 am, he was alert enough to notice that they had changed positions, with Bruce facing away from him and him spooning the younger man. None of his limbs were falling asleep in this position at least, though something else was definitely waking up. He blew on the back of Bruce’s neck to ruffle his hair and see if he was awake. With Bruce still sound asleep, Jeremiah watched him with affection.

“And you were worried that you were going to scare _me_ away, Bruce,” he whispered in the dark. “I’m too chicken to say this to your face you know, because then I would scare _you_ away. But if I say it out loud, maybe it makes it real. So. I love you. It’s crazy but, how could I not?”

He let out a relieved breath when Bruce hadn’t moved, still seemingly asleep. He observed him for a few more minutes, and then pressed himself closer to the young man and started nibbling the juncture where his neck and shoulder met. Bruce stirred and then mumbled, “Is this my ‘be careful what you wish for’ booty call?”

“Wow,” Jeremiah snickered. “You’re pretty sharp, even half asleep. I like it.”

Bruce reached under the pillow and shoved the lube into the hand Jeremiah had resting on his hip. “Since I’m half asleep, poke the other half of me awake like you promised. And not with your elbow."

His heart caught in his throat. He had been joking, and never expected…

”Bruce?”

“Do you want to?”

“God, of course.” _More than anything, actually._

“There you go then,” the dark haired man said, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “And make sure you get that thing good and slick otherwise you'll absolutely wreck me.”

That dark, possessive feeling bloomed in the pit of Jeremiah’s stomach again. An almost blinding need to take; to keep Bruce all to himself; to strike out at anyone or anything that would try to have what was his. A burning sense of entitlement. He had to blink a few times to clear his head of it. This wasn’t his brother’s voice, it was his own. And it didn’t scare him, it spurred him on.

”Gonna make you feel so good.”

If Jeremiah’s low growl sounded more like a threat than a promise, well, neither of them thought to mention it.

He pressed up against Bruce’s back and Bruce sort of balanced his foot on the side of Jeremiah’s knee to spread his legs a little. They stayed on their right sides but didn’t spend nearly as much time preparing as last time, Jeremiah clumsily prepping Bruce and getting a little too much lube, well, everywhere.

“That’s one way to do it,” Bruce smirked.

“Ha ha.” Bruce felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise at the strange tone in Jeremiah’s sarcastic laugh.

“Hold on, Brucie,” he mocked, shoving his arm under Bruce’s knee and rotating his forearm to hold the younger man’s calf muscle, hoisting the leg up and back like folding a chicken wing. Bruce yelped in surprise, thinking, _hey my leg doesn’t really go in that direction,_ but the thought was driven out by the feeling of being stretched much further than he’d ever done to himself. _Christ._ He let out a harsh breath.

“Bruce?”

“Yeah, just. You’re kinda big. Burns a little.”

“Hmm.” Jeremiah pulled back and instead worked his fingers back in to get Bruce wetter and paid extra attention to where he’d pushed in too hard. “Better, beautiful?”

“Yeah.” Bruce grunted and reached behind to give a few pulls to Jeremiah’s cock, spreading the lube a little more over the broad head. “Better. I can handle it, Miah.”

Jeremiah guided himself back to Bruce’s entrance, this time going a little slower. Not easy, with no experience, a raging boner that needed tending and a sense of ownership humming in his veins. _Mineminemine._ Bruce hissed, but this time Jeremiah rocked his hips back and forth a number of times until he could inch his cock in bit by bit.

“Oh shit.” Bruce felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head as he was slowly filled to overstuffed, the sensation like nothing he’d ever dreamed of. Initially almost too much, and then somehow nowhere near enough. There was a flare of pain, and then a crazy rippling along his channel as the muscles grabbed at the intruding appendage, seeming to alternately pull it further in while trying to expel it. He moaned at the strangely delicious contrasts and Jeremiah’s rocking multiplied the feeling. A few experimental thrusts, at first somewhat shallow and then deeper and harder and Bruce was suddenly making noises that had never come out of his mouth before.

Then Jeremiah pulled out and flipped Bruce onto his back.

To say Bruce was surprised would have been an understatement. Not that he didn’t think Jeremiah was strong enough to do it, he had a quite muscular torso and broad shoulders. But the redhead’s assertiveness, bordering on aggression, seemed out of character.

It was a _huge_ turn on.

Jeremiah dragged Bruce’s legs up and onto his shoulders, grabbed the boy’s hips and slid all seven inches home in one go, pulling Bruce hard against him as he pushed forward.

“Oh God, Miah!” Jeremiah flicked his eyes up to Bruce’s face, but the boy was writhing in ecstasy not in pain. He smirked and pulled halfway out and shoved back in, Bruce’s back arching with the force of it.

At first Bruce flailed like a rag doll, but it felt so unbelievably good that he squeezed his calves against Jeremiah’s sides and dragged his fingernails up Jeremiah's back.

“Something you like, Brucie?” he murmured darkly in between his own breathless grunts, moving constantly and taking Bruce with him. “Hmmm? Should I keep going?”

“Y-yes!” Bruce’s voice changed then to something reedy and desperate. “God, fuck me, Miah,” and then on a shuddering moan, “ohhhhh please, don’t s-stop.”

The redhead rocked up and pressed Bruce’s legs back, practically bending Bruce in half to change the angle. Bruce saw stars and didn’t recognize the sounds being pushed from his lungs. Jeremiah surged up and temporarily muffled Bruce’s cries, tongue fucking the boy’s mouth until Bruce grabbed the redhead’s face and sucked his tongue hard, their teeth clashing. Jeremiah kept up a punishing pace, hammering at Bruce's prostate and then playfully biting at Bruce’s neck and swollen lips until the younger man was on the edge of blacking out from the sensory overload. A trembling mess, Bruce’s climax was sudden and violent, a long, loud wail punctuating its arrival as he pulled Jeremiah’s hair hard enough to hurt. The unrelenting pleasure deep inside of him along with Jeremiah finally giving his aching cock some attention had him erupting in hot, messy pulses between them.

Jeremiah froze in mid thrust as Bruce’s ass contracted almost painfully around him, literally dragging the orgasm out of him. On a strangled moan he dropped his chin to his chest, shuddering as if in a fever dream as his cock swelled and twitched, filling Bruce with spurts of his cum. After a moment of utter stillness he withdrew, carefully rearranging Bruce’s legs before landing like a stone onto his side of the mattress.

They both lay there quietly panting for five or more minutes, stunned.

“I, uh…” Bruce broke the silence. “So. That was...are you sure you’ve never done that before?”

Jeremiah rolled his neck to look at Bruce, hot shame coloring his cheeks. “Never. And after molesting you like that I don't know how you'd ever let me again.”

“Are you kidding? I friggin’ loved it.” Bruce was covered in a sheen of perspiration, lips red and puffy, face and chest rosy from the exertion, love bites littering his throat.

“You did?”

“Of course! Didn’t you?”

Jeremiah nodded, covering his face with his hands. “Gah. You have to ask? It was...everything. I just felt like I...this is going to sound awful. I felt like I needed to mark you as mine or something.”

“Yeah, and did you ever. Wow. So, now I've discovered my new favorite thing,” Bruce said, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and laughing at himself. “But, it's your turn to clean us up, sex machine.”

“Well, shit. That’s a small price to pay if you actually like it like that. I wasn’t too rough?”

“Nope. It was exciting and, holy shit did it feel incredible. I can’t get over it - dude, it was like an amusement park ride.” Jeremiah couldn’t help the astonished smirk that crept onto his face as Bruce kept talking, sort of babbling now. “So if you loved it and I loved it, I guess we figured out how we really like it, right?”

Still smirking, the redhead didn’t push. “I don’t mind switching off, Bruce. Or trying new stuff too I guess.”

“Oh, I don’t either but...seriously? Wow.” He started to giggle like the 18 year old he was. “You can totally fuck me into the mattress like that any time. Holy shit.”

The awkward engineer smiled, pondering the possibility that his often dark fantasies might not be as shameful as he’d always believed. To think, Bruce Wayne could be the one to help him start unlocking his hidden depths.

Fascinating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 will pick the story up at the discovery of the insanity gas. Obviously will be AU to an extent and not follow the current show canon.


	6. Hell in a Handbasket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Jeremiah make plans for the production of the generator over coffee and when they part, Jeremiah has a crisis that changes everything.
> 
> Shorter transition chapter. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems  
> Got to open my eyes to everything  
> Don't let me die here  
> Bring me to life
> 
> \- Evanescence, "Bring Me To Life"

Without lights on, the interior of the bunker was as dark as a hotel’s blackout curtains. If it hadn’t been for the alarm clock glow, it would have been impossible to see anything.

Jeremiah pressed a kiss to the side of Bruce’s head after glancing at the clock. 9:30 A.M. They’d drifted back to sleep for a few hours, warm and sated, since there was no rush to be anywhere at a particular time.

“Hey sleepyhead,” he cooed, poking Bruce in the ribs where he’d discovered he was ticklish. “Didn’t you say you wanted to head out by 10?”

“Mmm. Yes. Is it time already?” It was a little disorienting not knowing whether it was day or night, and Bruce idly wondered what that did to a person if they lived like that for so many years.

Pulling on a pair of sweatpants, Jeremiah turned on the lights and started picking up the discarded clothing from last night, putting Bruce’s things on the back of a chair.

“There are clean towels and whatever else you might need in the bathroom closet. If you want anything of mine to wear, let me know. I’ll get some coffee going while you grab a shower.”

Bruce snuck up behind him, moving quickly and stealthily, so when Jeremiah turned to look at him he jumped at how close Bruce was.

“Sorry, sorry,” Bruce laughed, raising his hands up in surrender as Jeremiah shoved his arm.

“Don’t _do_ that.” He couldn’t help but smile; he had no idea Bruce was so light on his feet. Like a ninja. He filed that away in the back of his mind for future reference.

“I’d love some coffee, thank you,” Bruce kissed him on the cheek, grabbing his things and slipping past to get ready for the day.

When he made his way into the lab where Jeremiah was drinking coffee and sketching a load flow process diagram, Bruce was back to the same mature, stoic young man from yesterday afternoon.

“Here,” Jeremiah slid a cup over. “You clean up good, Wayne.”

“Yeah, and at least I’m only taking the walk of shame through a concrete maze not central Gotham.” He fixed up his coffee, and took a long sip. “So, I wanted to talk to you about the grant. My thinking is to get you set up with a temporary ID and work area and we can get you started by Friday.”

“That soon?” Jeremiah couldn’t believe that Bruce offered him the grant just yesterday and already wanted to get to work on the generator prototype.

“Why wait?”

“That’s...amazing. Thank you.”

“So, I’ve got stuff to do today and I’m sure you’ve got a lot going on after yesterday…”

“Yeah, I’m sure I’m going to hear from Arkham and the coroner’s office later.”

“Why don’t you call me tomorrow then. Gimme --” Bruce held his hand out for Jeremiah’s iphone. He put his cell number in along with the number for the manor and then called himself so he had Jeremiah’s number before handing it back.

“Whew. I was hoping you wouldn’t leave without, you know, scribbling your number on a napkin or something,” Jeremiah teased as they walked hand in hand to the doorway leading out into the maze.

“No excuse not to call now. I’ll get stuff set up for us, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Bruce leaned back against the door frame, eyes raking over Jeremiah’s low slung sweatpants, admiring the six pack and tapered waist before lingering over the ginger treasure trail heading south from his navel. “Wear a little more than that at Wayne Industries, if you don't mind. I don’t want to have to fight off the competition.”

“Don’t be silly, Brucie,” the redhead said, stepping directly into his space. “You don’t have any competition.” He cupped Bruce’s cheek and kissed him deeply, his other hand squeezing the back of his neck. Bruce melted into it, wrapping his arms around the shirtless man's waist and holding on tight.

“I love you too, you know,” Bruce whispered.

“Wait, what? No. Oh God. You...you were awake?” Jeremiah groaned, dropping his forehead to Bruce's shoulder.

“Yeah. So, tell me to my face. Please?”

The redhead blushed deeply and then looked into Bruce’s calm dark blue eyes. “Love you. Happy now?”

“Very,” the younger man smiled. “Talk to you soon, Miah.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon, beautiful.”

They shared one last goodbye kiss and then Bruce was on his way out through the maze, with Jeremiah watching him in the monitors as he left. Bruce turned around half way through and playfully shouted up at a camera "...and stop checking out my ass!" 

After 20 minutes and another cup of coffee, Jeremiah found himself staring at the tag on a purple-and-silver wrapped gift box on his desk. _Wayne Enterprises._

How on earth did that amazing boy sneak this past him? He felt his cheeks heat up as he looked the box over. What could Bruce have gotten him? He tore off the paper like a child unwrapping a birthday present, and looked over the inlaid wood marquetry box. Walnut perhaps, with an antiqued brass latch and hinged lid. Something you might put jewelry or trinkets in, very vintage looking. Didn’t Bruce talk about archaeology last night at dinner? Where might he have picked this up? He felt a thrill just thinking about what might be inside.

*****

Jeremiah Valeska had an IQ of 165. Before he locked himself away in a concrete fortress for six years, he’d hired a personal assistant proficient in martial arts to be his bodyguard and stand-in and to basically live his life in the outside world on his behalf. As he worked away on his blueprints, she served as his proxy: she handled his business, managed his security, fulfilled his appointments, negotiated his contracts, bought his groceries, checked his mail, and screened his calls. 

All of it, an elaborate control environment to ensure no harm could befall him.

All to make sure his twin brother couldn’t somehow take revenge for the sins of the past: when the weaker attacked the stronger in a case of sibling rivalry gone horribly wrong..when what couldn’t be done with fists or a sparkling personality was done with a brilliantly twisted mind...when fairy tales were woven out of whole cloth, destroying one life and isolating the other.

But, his twin was dead. The boy of his dreams was in love with him. Jeremiah never even gave it a second thought.

He flipped the latch and opened the box.


	7. Poison in the Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ecco discovers Jeremiah’s secret and helps retro-fit his persona so he can start work at Wayne Industries. Her past feelings for him rise to the surface but she maintains her composure as Jeremiah appears to push boundaries.
> 
> Bruce, meanwhile, begins to worry about his boyfriend when the call he’s waiting for doesn't come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our mental state  
> That you never could explain  
> Is getting darker everyday
> 
> Black cloud gathered in the corner  
> Black cloud from behind  
> Shadows slip along the sidewalk  
> Black cloud creep across the sky  
> Black thoughts, black afternoon  
> Black cloud in your eyes
> 
> \- Choo Choo La Rouge, "Black Cloud"

When she’d gotten back to the bunker after Jerome’s death on Tuesday, Ecco signed for Jeremiah’s delivery from Wayne Industries. She’d checked the driver’s ID and vehicle and was confident that there were no explosives in the packaging. She even lifted the cello tape on the wrapping paper and swabbed for trace narcotics and gun powder residue but there didn’t seem to be any issues.

Jeremiah called Ecco that night explaining that he’d be having dinner with Bruce Wayne, and encouraged her to go back to her place in Gotham to rest after her own recent ordeal with Jervis Tetch. It didn’t take a genius IQ for her to understand that Jeremiah wanted a little privacy. So she stayed away until early afternoon Wednesday.

She let herself in around 1:15 PM, heading right to their joint kitchen to restock the groceries and plan out a couple of meals so he wouldn't just microwave everything to death. When 40 minutes passed with no sign of Jeremiah - who invariably came by the kitchen to at least grab a snack when he would spot her on the closed circuit television - she decided to bring him a Pepsi and see how he was faring.

The heat sensors indicated that he was in the lab, but she didn't see him on camera.

When she opened the sliding panel, initially there was no sign of him. Then she spied Jeremiah on the floor behind his desk in a fetal position, and she flew across the room to his side.

Why was he so pale? He was wearing only gray sweatpants, which in and of itself was a little odd, but when she dragged him into a sitting position he was chalk white from his face down to his feet; almost like he’d been spray painted. Thankfully his skin was warm to the touch as she felt for a pulse. It was a little erratic, but definitely there.

“Jeremiah!” Lightly smacking his cheeks to bring him back to consciousness she noticed two things: he’d obviously been sick next to the desk, and the package that was delivered yesterday was open. It appeared to have been a vintage jack-in-the-box.

“What the hell happened here,” she murmured, rolling the cold Pepsi can across his forehead. “Jeremiah, wake up!”

She let out a relieved exhale when his eyelids twitched, but literally fell backwards onto her ass when he blinked his eyes open. They were the strangest shade of green - nearly clear - as if all the color had been drained of them along with that of his skin tone. “What the hell!” She scrambled back up to her knees to study him more closely.

“Ecco?” Jeremiah took in the confusion on her face and then glanced down at his hands. “My head is killing me. What happened?”

“You tell me. The package?” she asked. “Did it make you sick when you opened it?”

“Oh. The package. Yes, I think so…” She took his hand and pointed to the color. “What…”

“Your face, your chest. You’re completely white. Your eyes...they’re...Let me get you to Gotham General.”

“No! I’m not going to any hospital.” He grabbed onto the desk and started to pull himself upright. “What time is it?”

“2 PM. When did you open the package?”

“After Bruce left, maybe 10:30?”

“You’ve been unconscious for over 3 hours?” She took him by the elbow and helped him to the bathroom. He shook his head, not entirely sure.

“So, Bruce Wayne stayed overnight, I’m assuming,” she observed stiffly, digging around in the medicine cabinet for the Percocet from his sprained wrist last year. He glanced curiously at her as she pulled out the pill bottle. She shrugged. “You smell like a whorehouse.” 

“Gee, thanks. What a sweet thing to say. You didn’t think that maybe the box did that too?” he joked halfheartedly, staring at his face in the mirror. “Wow. What kind of toxin can strip away the skin's pigmentation? It’s fascinating.”

“Jeremiah. We really should get you looked at.”

“Not necessary.” He grimaced as he dry-swallowed the painkiller she offered and took a seat on the edge of the bathtub. “So, anyway - the package. It was wrapped up like a gift and I thought maybe Bruce had sent it.”

“I thought he had sent it too. The driver had a Wayne Enterprises ID. It was originally in a larger cardboard box and I checked both for explosives and anthrax.”

“Well, Jerome sent it, likely with a variant of that insanity gas he’s been spraying around town. And before you tell me he’s dead, I know that, I was there. But the box had an audio recording of his voice. It sprayed some kind of purple cloud in my face and then that psychotic bastard’s voice said it was a little something he made especially for me.”

“And?”

“And I don’t know exactly. I gagged a little from the fumes and then it felt like someone had cracked my skull open; a really sharp pain and a head rush - what I imagine smoking crack must feel like. It was a strange burst of icy cold that felt way too good to be normal, and then euphoria followed by a short-lived high much like an…uh,” he glanced at her, not sure if he should continue.

“An orgasm?” she finished for him, giving him the side eye.

“Yes." In the past he might have blushed. But even if he'd still had pigment, somehow he was a different man and he just kept talking. "Just without the mess. So, the toxin provides direct stimulation to pleasure sensors in the brain and releases endorphins. Hmm. I also remember laughing for no reason; I mean, _really_ laughing - the kind of hysteria that makes you double over in pain. The headache and nausea followed and then...voila. You found me, apparently laying next to a puddle of my own vomit. Very attractive.”

“Better me than Wayne finding you like that.”

“Oh, God. Bruce. How am I going to start working on the prototype looking like this?” He stood up again and examined his skin more closely. “Maybe a really hot shower will help.”

“We should get the compounds analyzed. We might be able to get the effects reversed.”

“When Jerome and his cronies were going around spraying people, the gas deformed them similarly but killed them immediately thereafter. This gas clearly isn’t as toxic, but I don’t want to raise any red flags right now - not when I’m this close to a breakthrough on the generator. Bruce offered me a grant to finalize it and produce the prototype.”

“Offered it? You didn’t have to apply?” Jeremiah had told Ecco months ago that he’d intended to apply for several grants, one from the Wayne Foundation included. But this was more than they could have expected.

“Flat out offered. He saw the prototype yesterday afternoon and last night suggested the grant so that we could run with it. Can you imagine? My generators being funded by Wayne Enterprises and used throughout Gotham? He wants me to start at the labs on Friday.”

“As in day after _tomorrow_ , Friday? You’re going to need, at the very least, some theatrical makeup and contact lenses if this ‘new you’ doesn’t fade back to normal.”

That was his Ecco; always thinking on her feet. “There’s a kind of makeup that can actually disguise this?” he pointed at his cheek.

“Well, yes. But it will need to have pretty high coverage to put color back into your skin. I can take care of that for you." Her fingers almost grazed his left side where the discoloration had started changing from purple to yellow-black. "What are these bruises?"

He stared intensely at her, almost challenging her. Ecco willed herself not to break the eye contact and stroked the bruised skin affectionately with her full hand. "Who did this to you, Jeremiah," she whispered.

Slowly, he smiled at her. "Jerome did it." He leaned his head toward her and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Thank you for all you do for me, my dear." Later she would obsess over how he had never so much as touched even her hand in all their years working together, and that small kiss positively lit her insides on fire. 

"What shall we do about your headache?” She hid the tremor in her voice by falling back on her professionalism.

He shook his head. “It’s not as bad as it was, but if it recurs, I may need you to get a renewal of my old migraine medication. Let’s see how it goes.” He turned slightly away from her to peek inside the waistband of his sweatpants. “Yep. Chalky white all the way down. How bizarre." He faced the mirror again and looked at his neck. "Why wouldn't it have simply turned me white where the gas permeated the surface areas? It appears to have made a change at the cellular level,” he mused quietly, seemingly talking to himself. "Altered my DNA?"

“Not sure I can find enough foundation in Gotham to cover _all_ of you.”

“Ha. Ha." There was an oddly chilling tone to his sarcastic laugh. "I'll be sure to let you know if I need you to do that, Ecco. There's no one I'd trust more."

*****

Jeremiah didn’t spend a lot of time mulling over his new look. A nearly scalding hot shower while scrubbing his skin raw did nothing to improve the lack of pigment. But the more he looked at himself, the more fond he became of the pure whiteness of his skin and the catlike gleam to his eyes.

Ecco returned in the evening to give him a “makeover” and teach him how to apply and set the foundation himself to adequately cover (or touch up) his face, neck and hands. Jeremiah watched her carefully as she applied the makeup under a bright fluorescent light to mimic what the lighting might be at Wayne Labs. That new stare of his was unnerving and yet so very sexy. When she had to lean in a little too far, he slid further back on the desk and motioned for her to stand between his knees. As hard as it was for her to be this close to him, she refused to let her hands shake as she worked. He made no inappropriate moves toward her, in fact he leaned on his hands for balance, but just his proximity and body heat were almost more than she could take. After all this time, with the feelings she'd had for him buried when he rebuffed her, she was confused and elated in equal measure. 

As an experiment, Jeremiah left the makeup on overnight, but in the morning he noted a good deal of it rubbed off onto his pillow. That wouldn't work if he wanted to have any overnight visits from Bruce. If he was going to continue having a physical relationship with the young man, it required a little creative thinking.

The fact that he was considering what he and Bruce had only as a "physical relationship" seemed to imply they were just fuck buddies. In truth, much of the emotional memory of that evening had begun fading along with Jeremiah's skin color.

*****

Thursday came and went, with no word from Jeremiah. Bruce tried not to worry, but Alfred noticed his anxious pacing around the library after dinner.

“Master B, would you mind telling me what has you so troubled?”

“Hmm? Nothing, Alfred. I’m just antsy.”

“Is this about your young man and his start date at Wayne Labs tomorrow?”

“My... _what_?” Bruce turned 3 shades of pink. “Jeremiah is…”

“Right. Sorry. Your _acquaintance_. To whom you offered a substantial grant for work that you only just glimpsed. And with whom you had dinner and then just so happened to stay overnight at his place. After you both survived kidnapping and threat of death by his crazed brother. Did I get that right? Or is there anything else you’d like to add?”

“Alfred,” Bruce sighed, too tired to be exasperated with his butler. “What could prevent him from calling when he said he would?”

“Perhaps something came up.”

“He lives in a bunker. What could come up?” the boy pouted.

“You can’t assume to understand everything about a man after knowing him but a day, Master Bruce. Could be he had some kind of scientific breakthrough that can’t be interrupted. Or he lost track of time. Or both. Call him tomorrow morning - and in the meanwhile, get some rest. It’s been quite a week.”

Bruce didn't mention that he'd already called Jeremiah and left a voice mail and 2 text messages with no response.


	8. The Beginning of the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremiah and Bruce finally reconnect and Jeremiah gets busy finalizing the generator. Bruce is puzzled by Jeremiah’s demeanor and tensions start to rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been running from it all my lifetime  
> There’s nothing wrong with you, I’m searching for my right mind  
> Oh, you should’ve seen it they were resting on the restless  
> This happened, literally — woke up I was headless  
> I woke up I was headless
> 
> I'm-a make a deal with the bad wolf  
> So the bad wolf don’t bite no more
> 
> \- AWOLNATION, "Hollow Moon"

 

“Planning to return his call, or will you ignore your phone all day again?”

“Hmm?” Jeremiah looked up at Ecco, who was watching him from across the worktable. “Yes. You’re right.” He glanced at the cell in his hand. “Oh. No need, this is him now.”

“Bruce, good morning!” There was a forced enthusiasm to his voice that made Ecco smirk. “I’m so sorry I didn’t call you right back yesterday.”

“Jeremiah!” Bruce sounded relieved. “No problem. Is everything alright?”

“Honestly, I was a little under the weather Wednesday afternoon. And yesterday I...well,” he sighed dramatically before making eye contact with Ecco and winking, “...I guess I’m just struggling with Jerome’s death. I didn’t expect to feel anything. But I’ve been really anxious and unsettled.” Ecco nodded and Jeremiah tilted his head smugly.

“You know, that actually makes sense. You went through a traumatic event his week and you’re also experiencing grief, whether or not you consciously acknowledge or accept it.” Bruce knew a thing or two about grief.

Jeremiah made a non-committal noise. He was taken aback by the suggestion that he might actually grieve the loss of his twin. How could that ever be? He hated Jerome. They had been lifelong rivals and all he felt was relief that the threat was gone. Even Jerome’s haranguing voice was gone from Jeremiah’s head.

Well, even if he really wasn’t grieving, no point in arguing about it with Bruce. Grief gave him an excuse for not calling, since he didn't really have one. I mean, what _should_ he have said? _“Oh, hiya Brucie, I didn’t call because some purple gas bleached my skin and I had to learn how to wear makeup so I could go out? Oh, and all I was focused on for the last 24 hours was my generator design because I realized I wanted to blow shit up?”_

Understanding that his friend was probably too traumatized to discuss the five stages of grief right now, Bruce changed the subject. “Well, I’ve got your temporary ID card and a work space set up for you over at Wayne Industries if you’d like to head over there today and check it out.”

“Actually, yes. I think I would like that. It would be a good distraction.”

“I’ll pick you up in an hour?”

“An hour?” Jeremiah looked at Ecco and pointed to his face. She gave him a thumbs up; the makeup they’d worked on this morning looked perfect. “Awesome. I’ll see you then.”

A few minutes after ending the call, he examined his face and hands under the bathroom light as Ecco stood at his side. “Are you sure this isn’t noticeable?”

“Jeremiah, if someone isn’t looking for something they likely won’t find it. If he does pick up on it, you can say you were covering the bags under your eyes from grief and lack of sleep.”

“Such a logical girl,” he said in the strangely robotic voice that was becoming more apparent as another effect of his exposure to the gas. The voice was more modulated and smooth than she was accustomed to; not his usual awkward chatter. His speech pattern was measured and calm; he more thoughtfully pronounced and articulated his syllables. It was actually a little hypnotic.

He turned to face her and ran a finger down her left cheek. “Thank you for all that you’ve done and _continue_ to do for me, my dear. I doubt I’ve ever properly offered my gratitude and appreciation for you.” When her brow furrowed, he cupped her cheek and tilted her chin upward with his thumb so she would have to look right at him.

With those unnerving sea glass colored eyes holding her gaze, Jeremiah leaned down and stopped just short of touching his lips to hers. As their breath mingled he waited patiently for permission, so cool and collected; nothing like the bashful engineer he had been only two days ago. How much of this demeanor was the effect of the gas, and how much of it was his newfound confidence thanks to bedding Bruce Wayne? She wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to that.

Ecco moved just close enough to bump her nose to his cheek. He accepted that as his invitation and barely brushed his lips over hers, a feather light caress that raised goose bumps along her arms. She parted her lips slightly and felt her stomach clench as he dragged his mouth more firmly against hers, slowly but authoritatively, sliding his fingers into her hair and cradling her head. It made her knees weak. He traced her lower lip with the tip of his tongue and then dipped inside to probe her mouth.

When her tongue made contact with his and the kiss deepened, a lone drop of perspiration trickled from the back of her neck down her spine and the ache of desire rose within her core. His tongue made teasing, irregular motions against hers keeping her guessing and she did her best to keep up, loving the way he tasted; the kiss hot and insistent. But as much as she longed to keep going, especially now that she could feel his growing hardness answering her own arousal, she had to do her job. He had an appointment and she had to put a halt to this before they lost track of time and the Wayne boy walked in.  Squeezing his upper arms to get his attention, she withdrew and pressed her lips to his jaw. He pulled back and tilted his head questioningly. At least he looked flustered, though no blush could rise to his cheeks.

“Your meeting, _Mr. Valeska_ ,” she murmured, rubbing her thumb across his bottom lip where concealer had smeared and his permanently ruby-colored hue was breaking through the neutral toned liquid lipstick. “We’re going to disturb your look after all that work we did.”

Jeremiah cleared his throat. “Of course. Quite level-headed and quick thinking. Just another thing I can always rely on with you at my side.” With a serene smile, he stepped back to the sink and focused on putting in the contact lenses she’d purchased for him. She straightened his tie and made the necessary touch-ups to his face. Their eyes met in the mirror.  

“Be careful today. Let me know if there is anything you need from me.”

He nodded, slipping on his horn-rimmed eyeglasses. “Of course. I’ll be in touch to give you an update.”

The motion detectors went off, and Jeremiah walked back into the lab so he would be ready to greet Bruce.

“Bruce, so good to see you again.” He held his hand out to shake and Bruce seemed confused until he noticed Ecco behind him. Bruce supposed that was fine. Jeremiah must not be comfortable showing affection in front of others.

“Jeremiah. A pleasure.” The men shook hands.

Jeremiah turned and beckoned Ecco closer. “Bruce, this is my right hand, Ecco. I don’t know what I would do without her.”

“Ecco,” Bruce greeted, nodding politely. She gave a small, tight smile in return.

“Mr. Wayne.”

Jeremiah grabbed a roll of blueprints and the backpack that contained the scale model of the generator, and the two men made their way out to Bruce’s car.

Bruce halted Jeremiah at the passenger door of the car with a gentle hand to his elbow, stepping closer to the man to kiss him hello. Seemingly distracted, the redhead turned his face slightly at the last minute causing Bruce’s kiss to land on the corner of his mouth. However, Jeremiah did at least smile prettily for Bruce and squeeze his arm before getting into the car.

“So, you feeling any better now?”

“Yes and no. Thank you for asking. I’m wondering if my anxiety about Jerome is starting to manifest in other ways, like not wanting to leave the bunker. I would have preferred to work alone in my lab.”

Bruce handed a Starbucks venti latte to Jeremiah before starting the car and heading back into Gotham City. He briefly pondered the odd tone to Jeremiah’s voice but dismissed it as a symptom of the redhead’s current emotional unease.

“I guess I can understand that. Maybe you should take baby steps. Today, a couple hours at Wayne Industries, and then a couple hours tomorrow or Monday rather than putting in full days. After your brother is buried, you might feel less anxious.”  

The engineer nodded, sipping his coffee carefully after removing its lid so he wouldn’t leave obvious makeup traces from his lips on the plastic.

Wayne Industries, a high-tech division of the larger Wayne conglomerate, was in the center of Gotham City. Although Bruce parked in W.I.'s executive lot, Jeremiah took note of the locations for general employee parking and two visible loading docks.

“Do you need an ID for parking or loading?” he asked casually as Bruce handed him his temporary ID before walking past Security to the elevator.

Bruce shrugged. “Yes, but your regular ID should work fine for accessing anything other than the restricted areas on 17 and 22. We’ll stop by the 3rd floor so they can take a picture of that lovely face.”  He glanced at Jeremiah to enjoy the embarrassed look that would likely appear after such a compliment. But he was disappointed; Jeremiah smiled, but no pink flush rose to his cheeks.

*****

Jeremiah got the royal treatment at Wayne Industries: a full tour of the facility, lunch in the cafeteria, and an opportunity to meet the dedicated staff of 6 that would create full-size versions of his generator. He got to explain his theories and how he reached his conclusions, and then Bruce proudly showed them the scale prototype from which they would build the real deal.

It was all very exciting. They decided as a team that the first production run could be somewhere between 25-30 generators, which would be enough to power more than half of Gotham. It seemed that timing was perfect, with other W.I. projects in phases that wouldn’t interrupt this work (since Jeremiah had done the bulk of the design and testing in his own lab already) the generators themselves could be ready in less than a week.

By the time the two men were back in the car and en route back to the bunker, Bruce felt bad at how exhausted Jeremiah looked.

Jeremiah, however, was anything but tired; he was more fired up than ever to get back to his lab and and make plans. He had an idea that he just needed to plot out on a street-level map of Gotham. It was going to be easy from this point on thanks to Bruce’s personal interest and investment in the generators.

When they pulled up to the cement monolith that accessed the underground maze, Bruce turned off the engine and turned fully in his seat, sliding closer to the redhead.

“I have to admit, Jeremiah. I’m worried. You don’t seem like yourself.”

“Worried?” he asked with a frown. “Bruce, I’m sorry to concern you. I’m fine, really. I’m just a little wiped out from today’s excitement and the anxiety of the past couple days. Nothing to worry about, I assure you.”

Bruce reached over and took his hand and Jeremiah felt a strange tingle where their skin met. Odd. He hadn’t noticed that sensation the other night when they were together. But then again, there were a lot of other sensations to pay attention to that night and it was also before he got sprayed. Maybe it was some sort of chemical interaction. If Bruce felt the tingle, it was unclear by the look on his face so Jeremiah ignored it.

What wasn’t as easy to ignore though was the way Bruce was looking at _him_. Now that they were touching and sharing the same air, Jeremiah felt an almost gravitational pull from Bruce dragging him down into a warm cocoon; something that felt like...love.

Love? On some level, that made sense...in fact, it seemed almost familiar but Jeremiah was confused by it. Then Bruce kissed him. It was a soft thing, this kiss. Not like what transpired between he and Ecco earlier which was full of sexual tension and gave him a sense of power. This kiss with Bruce was careful and concerned and tender and sweet and it made Jeremiah feel safe - but unbelievably sad. It was a lovely kiss and yet it also felt _incorrect_ somehow, like puzzle pieces had been shifted out of place and no longer touched properly on all sides.

“Want some company tonight, Miah?” Bruce whispered when he drew back, still gripping the redhead’s hand.

Jeremiah opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. He blinked and it was like something in his head short circuited. and he winced as the headache hit him.

“I...I don’t think so, Brucie,” he said regretfully, and he did regret it because he was now remembering parts of Tuesday night much more clearly.  “I’ve been having headaches. I didn’t want to bother you about it earlier, but, um, one’s coming on pretty hard right now.”

“Headaches? Do you have something for them? Is this new?” Now Bruce was really getting concerned, though he felt some relief that Jeremiah was speaking in more of his normal cadence and had a softer look on his face.

“Yes, I have medication, and no, they aren’t exactly n-new. I haven’t had one in a long time but they’re back this week. Maybe they’re stress-induced.” Yet a non-stressful moment popped into his mind just then: he recollected waking up in the early morning Wednesday and whispering ‘I love you’ to Bruce while the younger man was asleep. Such a nice memory; he wondered if maybe he imagined it.

He let Bruce tug him a little closer (darn stick shift) and he rested his forehead on Bruce’s shoulder for a minute. It was nice to give up control for a few moments and stop thinking so much. Why hadn’t he called Bruce yesterday? Everything was a little fuzzy. Another memory surfaced.

_“Do you believe in soulmates?”_

Maybe he should tell Bruce about the gas. Could Bruce do something to help him reverse his condition? Not just his skin color, but this sudden and obsessive drive forward to...what exactly? Something about the generators - something dark and ugly. Bruce would know what to do.

“Bruce, I…”

Bruce, already deciding his next course of action, let go of Jeremiah's hand so he could scroll through his cell phone directory.

“I can recommend a very good doctor. I also know of a psychologist that specializes in grief counseling. When my parents died, I was pretty messed up for awhile. This doctor is not like any of the charlatans at Arkham; a true professional. Counseling helped me a lot. They can also...” He glanced over at Jeremiah and frowned at the hard, suspicious look on his face. “What?”

“Psychologist? What are you saying?” Now that his hand was free _(free of Bruce, free of that blasted tingle),_ Jeremiah pushed against the dashboard, scooting closer to the car door to put several inches between him and Bruce. “There’s nothing wrong with me,” he sniped. An affronted rage was building behind his eyes, pushing the headache to the background.

“No, of course there’s nothing wrong with you. But it doesn’t hurt to have someone to talk to. If you’re not ready, that’s cool. We can talk about it another time. But I can still come in and keep you company, you know? I’ll take care of you until you’re feeling better.”

“No thank you, Bruce. That’s quite alright.” That clipped, cool tone of voice was back that had been puzzling Bruce all day. “That’s what Ecco gets paid to handle.”

Bruce felt slighted by that. “Which? She gets paid to keep you company, or to take care of you? Because I didn’t think either of those tasks were part of an assistant’s job. I thought she handled your paperwork and threw punches at people to protect you. Shouldn’t I be there for you, you know, as your boyfriend?”

“Bruce. I’m not getting my thoughts across clearly. I really need to go take something for my head and lie down. Can we talk tomorrow, please?” The angry look had started to fade, only to be replaced by cold indifference.

Sighing, Bruce nodded. “I’m sorry. Guess I’m being a little clingy. I just missed you. Can I pick you up tomorrow at about 10 to head back to the office? I mean, if you’re up to it?”

“Yeah, that works. Sorry to be such a downer, Bruce.” The redhead leaned over and performatively kissed Bruce on the cheek. “If I’m not feeling well enough, I’ll call you by 9 AM to let you know.”

 _Will you?_ Bruce's heart hurt at the thought. Jeremiah had promised to call once before; his track record wasn't very good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's looking like 11 chapters plus an epilogue at this point. Hope you are enjoying the story. Difficulties ahead for our boys.


	9. Diagramming the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremiah makes a questionable choice in finding relief for his headaches. Bruce has a roller coaster of a day at W.I. when Jeremiah’s personality takes a few unpredictable turns.
> 
> Note: Dubcon elements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I could take back the moment  
> I let you get under my skin  
> Relent or resist  
> Seems the monster always wins
> 
> You're the pulse in my veins  
> You're the war that I wage  
> Can you change me?  
> Can you change me?  
> You're the love that I hate  
> You're the drug that I take  
> Will you cage me?  
> Will you cage me?  
> You're the pulse in my veins  
> You're the war that I wage  
> Can you change me?  
> Can you change me?  
> From the monster you made me?
> 
> \- Starset, "Monster"

Jeremiah had been aware of certain changes while in Bruce’s car - not the actual shift of his personality, because the post-gas personality was far too strong to allow him to recall his softer self - but the physical changes: the headaches and alternating chills and cold sweats. He had yet to connect his resurfacing emotions to physical contact with Bruce’s skin; or if he had, the stronger personality refused to acknowledge such a romanticized notion and suppressed it.

By the time he walked back into the lab, he was drenched in perspiration and the headache was a dreadful, pulsating pain behind his left eye.

His glance fell upon the shelf where the jack-in-the-box sat. An idea came to him and he purposefully grabbed the box and set it on his work table.

The pipe in the clown’s mouth that had sprayed him with the insanity gas had been carefully covered with black electrical tape by Ecco to preserve what was left. Jeremiah rummaged through a file cabinet and brought out a length of flexible clear plastic tubing.

Settling on one of the stools, he peeled back the electrical tape and slipped the tubing over the metal pipe. A purple vapor started curling its way through the tubing; he put the open end of the tubing in his mouth and inhaled, quickly covering the opening with his thumb afterward.

He didn’t know what to expect, but he felt confident it wouldn’t kill him since he survived that lengthy blast on Wednesday morning.

The effects were immediate. First, a cold feeling came on similar to a brain freeze after eating ice cream too fast. Next, a pleasant high that gave him a ridiculous amount of energy. (It also made him horny, but he was quite experienced in channeling that urge into his work.) Lastly, his headache dulled enough that he could start to think again.

And think he did. He inhaled a second time before taping up the pipe, tucking the tubing in an empty space and putting the box back on the shelf. He then sat at his drafting table and started work on what he believed would be his masterpiece.

Three hours later, Ecco walked in and found him drawing connectors and relays and switches, all branching outward from a core relay “central brain” to thirty next-generation energy generators - plotted out in a diagram of a city-sized labyrinth. A diagram that was a near perfect blueprint of Gotham, drawn entirely from memory.

*****

Bruce picked Jeremiah up at 10 AM the next morning, and was pleasantly surprised to see that the redhead was in an exceptionally good mood. Though his voice kept slipping into that strange tone, he smiled more and was genuinely excited to be with Bruce and heading back to Wayne Industries.

No one would have guessed that Jeremiah had not slept in nearly 30 hours.

Bruce observed Jeremiah working with the six engineers assigned to the project, who all gladly came in on a Saturday to listen to the genius explain more of the details needed to produce the full sized generators and activate their operating systems.

Watching Jeremiah talk so passionately about his work, Bruce mentally berated himself for being unfair to Jeremiah the day before. He needed to learn not to smother the guy; their relationship was brand new (even if it didn’t feel that way) and Jeremiah was dealing with a lot of stress after literally rejoining the world after being a recluse for so long.

Bruce also wanted this project to go smoothly for what the energy savings could mean for Gotham.

After Jeremiah set the team up with what they needed to do to work independently, he slid into the chair next to Bruce’s and let out a deep breath.

“So. Want to grab some coffee?”

“Sure,” Bruce agreed. “I want you to know I really enjoyed listening to you this morning. You’re so brilliant it makes me feel like a dunce.”

Jeremiah chuckled. “Bruce, you’re far from being a dunce. I’m just a total geek about these generators.”

They headed to the cafeteria and after getting their coffees and sitting at one of the lunch room tables, Jeremiah surprised Bruce with an apology.

“About last night. I’m sorry I got so tense about the whole grief counseling thing. The headache was just getting to me and I didn’t want to think about my brother having any kind of effect on me.”

“I get it. And I’m sorry if I overstepped. I just hated to see you hurting, whatever the reason. How’s the headache today?”

“It’s fine.” Jeremiah held in an ironic laugh. “I took something last night that seemed to help.” _It’s fine. I huffed poisonous gas through a homemade hookah last night and it seemed to help._

Two hours later, Bruce took Jeremiah and the six engineers to the access-restricted 17th floor to show them where the assembled generators would be stored. This vault-like chamber was one of the only places Jeremiah couldn’t get to with his ID, but he wasn’t concerned; he’d already begun his contingency plan for getting in there later in the week.

When the staff engineers went to lunch, Jeremiah watched Bruce from the far side of the lab. The billionaire was leaning on his elbows over a set of Gotham City blueprints talking to someone on his cell. Jeremiah wasn’t listening to the conversation; he was focused on Bruce’s pert ass on display. He felt a wave of hunger that was almost overpowering.

When Bruce disconnected the call, he jumped when he found himself caged in place by a pair of strong arms; a warm chest pressed to his back.

“Bruce,” the redhead murmured lowly, “why don’t I make it up to you for last night.”

“Wh-what?” He laughed nervously, looking around to see if anyone was nearby.

“Mmm. You heard me.” He pressed up against Bruce until there was no longer space between them.

“Jeremiah, we can’t.”  Bruce felt the other man’s obvious arousal against his ass. “Not here.”

“Why not here? You’re the boss, Bruce. You can do whatever you want. Who’s going to stop you? And you do want _this_ ,” he gave a shallow thrust to punctuate his words, “don’t you?” Jeremiah slowly slid his hands up Bruce’s arms and sighed. “So good. You were so good for me, remember?” The redhead’s breath gusted over the shell of Bruce’s ear and the younger man shuddered.

“Don’t,” Bruce whispered. “There are windows.”

“I know! The potential for getting caught is what makes it more exciting, doesn’t it? Bend you over the table and open you up while you chant my name. Fuck you so hard you’ll see stars...anyone could walk by and see you, so desperate and begging and falling apart on my cock.”

“Holy sh…” Bruce tried to push off the table to put some distance between them, but all that accomplished was to thrust his ass against Jeremiah’s hardness.

“Miah, I’m serious. Please don’t do this.”

“Ashamed of who you are, Bruce?” Jeremiah taunted. “Don’t want to be outed?”

“N-no, that’s not it at all. I _own_ the company. I can’t behave like this in front of the employees. Come on, you know…ohhh…” his words were cut off by the warm press of Jeremiah palming Bruce through his slacks.

“You’re not in front of the employees. Let go, Bruce. At least let me give you what you need. What I denied you last night.” Jeremiah massaged Bruce’s erection with the heel of his hand and threaded the fingers of his opposite hand into the boy’s dark hair.

Bruce trembled, fighting the desire to let Jeremiah take him right there. His whole body sang with need, nerve endings on fire for the redhead. It had only been four days since they had been together, yet for Bruce it seemed like forever.

Still. Wayne Industries was not the place for this.

While Bruce dealt with his inner struggle, Jeremiah started circling his hips and giving shallow thrusts against the boy’s ass. “You feel so good, Bruce. Mmm, and you’re so hard for me.” He raked his fingernails over the bulge now tenting the younger man’s pants and slid his other hand down to fondle Bruce’s balls.

Bruce gasped when Jeremiah lightly squeezed him with alternating hands, and then thumbed at the head of his cock through his pants.

“Please…” he whined, starting to shake. “We can’t.”

“Oh, fine. We’ll keep our clothes on. But do you really want me to stop touching you?” the redhead chuckled. “Get you all worked up like this, so hard and hot and needy, almost ready to explode for me and I should...just...Stop?” He dropped his hands dramatically and the younger man groaned in frustration from the loss of warmth and friction.

“Jesus, Jeremiah,” he choked out.

“Yes or no, Bruce?” Jeremiah palmed Bruce again, more roughly. Bruce hissed in response, pushing up into Jeremiah’s hand. The redhead continued to swivel his own hips, panting against Bruce’s shoulder.

“What do you need? Need me to keep going before our friends are back from lunch? Need to come?”

“Yes!” he admitted, “okay, yes!”

“Yes, what?” Jeremiah slowly slid Bruce’s zipper down and skimmed his fingers along the cotton covering the younger man’s length. He spoke right into Bruce’s ear. “What. Do. You. Need?” He punctuated each word with a thrust against his backside. “Say it.”

“God, please,” he finally begged. “I need to come. Please let me come.” His voice cracked on the last words and then he mumbled, “want you to come too.”

Jeremiah could feel Bruce shaking against him and he closed his eyes to relish the power he had over Bruce; not acknowledging that Bruce had the same power over him.

Bruce whimpered as Jeremiah jacked him off through his boxers while relentlessly grinding himself against Bruce’s hip.

“There’s a good boy,” he coaxed breathlessly, “Wish I could come inside you, then pull out and paint you with it. Show who you belong to.”

“Oh my God.” Bruce was completely undone by Jeremiah’s aggressive sexuality and uncharacteristic dirty talk.

Jeremiah’s hand picked up speed within the confines of Bruce’s trousers and they each came within moments of the other. Bruce bit his lip to muffle a scream as he erupted within the tight warmth of Jeremiah’s fist. Jeremiah, when he felt those first spurts of cum soak Bruce’s boxers, shoved himself hard against Bruce’s right ass cheek so the boy could feel the pulsing of his climax. He growled possessively, sinking his teeth into the back of Bruce’s neck so hard he nearly broke the skin.

“Come on,” Jeremiah tugged at Bruce’s sweater after barely a few moments of recovery, “let’s get cleaned up. I actually asked the team to take the full hour for lunch because I needed to ‘talk’ to you. No one was going to catch us.”

So. Jeremiah hadn’t been as reckless as he’d let Bruce think. He’d also kept an eye on the windows during their dalliance and was reasonably certain that no one had even been on the floor during the time they’d spent humping.

“Are you kidding me?” Bruce spit, turning his head to stare angrily at his boyfriend. “You let me think that someone could catch us instead of assuring me we were safe? Why would you do that?”

“It was more exciting that way.”

“You practically forced me.” Bruce crossed his arms, not wanting to admit Jeremiah was right - it _was_ more exciting that way and he wished he felt more ashamed about it.

“Forced you? Giving you a hand job when you had an obvious hard on was forcing you? You said yes and then you begged me to keep going.” Jeremiah’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Let’s go. Hit the men’s room before people do start coming back. You want to be mad at me, fine, but be mad after you fix yourself up. I’m going.”

Bruce didn’t respond, choosing to turn his head away. Jeremiah shrugged and headed to the bathroom.

Of course Jeremiah knew very well that he couldn’t chance exposing his white complexion by getting even partially undressed in front of Bruce. But, somehow intuitively he’d also managed to completely avoid touching Bruce’s skin - except for that love bite at the end. There had been no kissing and all touching was done over clothing.

Bruce had been in such a state he hadn’t noticed.

*****

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful. Jeremiah spent time checking on each engineer’s work, answering questions and encouraging their progress. Bruce observed stone faced, occasionally texting and briefly leaving the room to take a couple of calls.

“Bruce,” Jeremiah called to him when he came back in after the latest of these calls, “If you need to be somewhere, I can take a cab back.” Bruce had said barely two words all afternoon.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, Jeremiah. I’ll drive you when you’re ready. We have _business_ to discuss anyway. Wouldn’t you say?”

Bruce could only stare incredulously when Jeremiah winked at him in response and went back to what he was doing.

In the car two hours later, the tension was just as thick as it had been in the lab.

Bruce threw the car into park at the rock quarry and rounded on Jeremiah.

“What the hell were you thinking today?”

Jeremiah pretended to not understand. “What? Did I entrust too much of the work to them? Would you rather I do certain aspects of the work myself?”

“Oh, please. I know you’ve basically lived in a fucking cave for six years but you’re not ignorant. Why would you pull a stunt like that?”

“Are we back onto that again? I thought we’d moved on. No harm, no foul, right?”

“No. Not exactly. I’m still pissed at you.” Bruce’s anger had cooled but he felt like he really needed to be heard.

Jeremiah rolled his eyes. “Do you want another apology? I apologized this morning for not inviting you to spend the night and now you want me to apologize for making it up to you?”

“No,” Bruce sighed. “I want you to apologize for not stopping when, at least twice, I asked you to. Before it got to the point where I couldn’t let you stop. You know? It wasn’t fair of you and it was inappropriate in any workplace much less a company I own.”

Jeremiah stared out the windshield planning his response. Bruce was being far too dramatic.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“What? I don’t think that has any bearing…”

The redhead turned and met his eyes. “Before I respond to you, I just want to know. Did you enjoy it?”

Bruce visibly struggled with his answer, lowering his eyes.

Maybe Jeremiah’s intuition momentarily failed, or maybe the conscience he once had briefly returned - whatever the reason, he reached out and cupped Bruce’s jaw in the palm of his hand.

“Hey.”

And there was the strange tingle again from yesterday. If he’d stopped to think about it, he would have let go as though burned. But Bruce’s hand was suddenly covering his and the boy’s dark blue eyes were back on him.

“Of course I did, you ass. Too damn much.” A tear slid down his cheek and Jeremiah caught it with his thumb. “But you put me in a bad spot.”

Whatever Bruce was feeling, Jeremiah was now feeling it too - along with a heavy dose of guilt.

“God. Sorry. I’m sorry. I really am. You’re absolutely right, and if I was an employee you’d be within your rights to fire me. If you pull the plug on the project I’d understand. Just,” he sighed, “don’t pull the plug on us yet?”

Bruce huffed out a sad laugh. “Not likely, Valeska. On either count. You’re stuck with me. But…” He took Jeremiah’s free hand and held it.

“But?”

“I’m even more worried about you now than I was yesterday. I know I haven’t known you that long but since we met, it seems like you’ve been displaying a kind of split personality or something. I mean, right now you’re the guy I fell in love with…”

Jeremiah smiled at that, squeezing Bruce’s hand.

“But you’ve been alternating between cold and indifferent this week. Then today, aggressive. It’s a little disconcerting, not knowing which ‘you’ will show up. Have you ever been treated for anything like that?”

“No. No, just depression a few years after I was sent away from my family. But nothing else. Maybe you were right about my seeing a doctor,” Jeremiah murmured thoughtfully. “I’ll admit, I’ve been having some fuzzy memories and even lost time.”

Bruce leaned forward and placed a gentle, chaste kiss on Jeremiah’s lips. “So, would it be alright if I looked up a name or two for you to contact when you’re ready?”

The redhead shrugged. It was then the headache started up again. _Shit._

Bruce caught Jeremiah’s brief grimace. “Your head?” The older boy nodded. “Do you think it’s related?”

“Possibly. I’d had migraines in college, but these are different.” Again, the idea of telling Bruce about the gas surfaced.

“Alright. Just. Feel better and I’ll give you some recommendations next time I see you. Deal?”

“Yes.” Jeremiah initiated a kiss this time, but a pretty tame one considering his headache. Bruce cut him off before he could gather his thoughts enough to confess.

“Go. You doing anything tomorrow?”

“Yes, I, uh, I’m taking care of my brother’s funeral arrangements. Would you want to come with?”

The younger boy nodded. “Yes, of course. You sure you don’t want Ecco to go with you?”

“No. She’s handing something else for me tomorrow.”

Bruce squeezed Jeremiah’s hand one last time. “Just let me know what time you want to meet, and go get some rest, love.”

*****

Walking through the familiar comfort of the maze took only a few minutes. Each step took Jeremiah’s mind further from those soft, caring moments in Bruce’s car and closer to the cold, efficient planner he kept reverting to.

He went straight to the lab, downed one of Ecco’s Coke Zeros in two swallows, and once again pulled out the jack-in-the-box. Soon, he’d need to spend time analyzing the gas’s properties and potentially convert it to a liquid for ease of use, transport and modification.

But tonight, he just needed to temper his fresh headache and get some work done. He popped open the lid, hooked up the tubing, and took a hit.

By Sunday morning, Jeremiah had removed his makeup and contacts but was still in Saturday’s clothes. He drank strong black coffee as he finished up a secondary map of Gotham with generators strategically placed at all bridge and tunnel entry points. At the top of the map he’d scrawled “Plan B.”

Thanks to his new “habit,” he’d been awake for 52 hours straight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating. I was on vacation in Europe and internet was not very quick or reliable where I was staying.


	10. One Bad Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a week of increasing tensions, Bruce and Jeremiah have several ugly confrontations while trying to hold their relationship together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caught by the light aware but asleep  
> Never as close as the friends that you keep  
> Drifting away on one final breath  
> The further you climb, calm silhouette  
> And takes you along, long, long, long
> 
> \- The Boxer Rebellion, "Caught By The Light"

“Master Bruce, finish up your breakfast. You’ll do Jeremiah no good if you aren’t in full form today. I suspect he’ll be relying on you to help him hold it together.”

Bruce was in the library staring out the window. “Be right there, Alfred,” he answered absently.

“Something wrong with the young man?”

“Hmm?” He turned to face the butler. “No. No, he sounded fine. A little too energetic this early in the day, but fine. That’s just it. His...well, like I told you. His personality. It’s gone to so many extremes this week. Although I shared my concern with him, I didn’t tell him how serious I think it is. I’d like to talk to Lee Thompkins about it and get a referral from her. I know she’s not in the mental health business anymore, but I’d still trust her opinion.”

“Give it the measure of a full week, Master B. The boy has been traumatized, and we have no idea what his history with Jerome was like. Then, if he’s not improved or stabilized, I think contacting Dr. Thompkins is a fine idea. Especially since you said he’d agreed to it.”

Bruce nodded and followed Alfred back to the kitchen to finish the last of his coffee and toast.

He and Jeremiah arrived at Miller Funeral Home, near Cathedral Square, sometime around noon. Although the redhead had seemed fine on the phone and when Bruce picked him up, it was evident that his anxiety rose more and more the closer they got to their destination. Once out of the car, Bruce boldly took his hand and wouldn’t let go. When Jeremiah looked at him questioningly, Bruce shrugged. He simply wanted Jeremiah to realize that he wasn’t ashamed of their relationship, and figured a public demonstration would be the best way to prove it. The older boy smiled shyly (a look Bruce hadn’t seen on him in days) and raised their clasped hands to press a kiss to Bruce’s knuckles.

The arrangements didn’t take long. There was really very little that needed to be done. As an Arkham Asylum inmate, Jerome already had an order on file for a standard burial in Gotham’s Robinson Park district cemetery. All Jeremiah had to do was agree that he had no objections or had other familial plans - like a family plot or crypt in which he would prefer to bury his brother.

“No, no,” he murmured, Bruce’s right hand like a vice around his left as Jeremiah signed the waivers. “My brother and I were not especially...close. If he has any personal effects, please have Arkham dispose of them.”

It was agreed that Jeremiah (and Bruce, by default) would be present at the gravesite on Tuesday at 9 AM for the interment. And that was all that remained of Jeremiah’s obligation.

In the parking garage, Bruce stopped Jeremiah before he could open the car door.

“You did great in there.” He put his arms around the redhead and just held him close, one hand at his back and the other on the back of his neck. Jeremiah melted into Bruce, holding on and trying not to cry even though his makeup was waterproof. He felt so cared for in those moments, it brought memories back of that beautiful night they had shared just five days earlier.

“Thank you, Bruce,” he whispered, kissing Bruce just below the ear. “You’re a true friend.”

“You’re welcome. I would do anything for you, you know that, right? Do you want to go anywhere? Do anything?”

Jeremiah slumped back against the car. “Not especially. I really appreciate you coming out with me to do this, but it’s been a long week. If we’re going back to Wayne Industries tomorrow, I think I’d just as soon go back home and rest.” He turned his head and coughed a couple of times into his coat sleeve.

Although he was disappointed, Bruce was so happy to see Jeremiah more like his old self that he didn’t press the issue.

“Of course. And yes, I think tomorrow will give us the opportunity to see a lot of progress. Your generators should be ready by Tuesday at this rate.”

“ _Our_ generators,” Jeremiah corrected, kissing Bruce on the cheek.

*****

Ecco was back on Monday, having spent Sunday making the necessary transportation arrangements (and contingencies) to execute Jeremiah’s plan. When he’d first explained what he really planned to do with the generators, she thought he was joking. She soon realized he wasn’t joking at all. Jeremiah told her he had always fantasized about destroying his birth city that he’d been denied an opportunity to ever live in; since childhood when he and Jerome were dragged all over the east coast with the circus, he’d dreamed of a day when he could punish others for the Valeskas’ difficulties. Not his mother, no never her - as the favored son, it seemed to Ecco that he had some strange oedipus complex about Lila Valeska - and he never knew his father; so others had to pay. He’d dreamed of tearing everything down and like some feudal king, rule over a new world order in his own little kingdom. Since the spray, he’d been freed to do every darkly creative _(disturbing)_ thing he’d pushed below the surface. What could be more creative than blowing up a city like Gotham and rebuilding it from scratch? He would be the one to do it and by doing so, assure his legacy would never be forgotten.

He spent a good part of Saturday night giving her more detail, going over the blueprints with her, and describing what he needed her to do. There would be a window of opportunity either Tuesday or Wednesday night to get the generators out of Wayne Industries and onto trucks so they could be positioned by Thursday or Friday. She was to handle obtaining adequate transport, manpower and drivers for both nights just in case. And since his Wayne Industries ID would not provide him access to the vault, she would accompany him to gain the access by any means necessary. By that, she knew he meant 'kill anyone in the way.'

It was a test, he said. If she could do this for him, he would know that she intended to stay by his side no matter what; that she wouldn’t abandon him due to his transformation.

There was no question that she would do it. She would always do as he asked. She loved him deeply though he clearly had never recognized it. Maybe he never would. But if she had to prove herself (as if she hadn’t already done so over the past six years, over and over again) then that’s what she would do. There was nothing else for her - her whole life revolved around Jeremiah Valeska. There would be no going back for her.

She, however, wasn’t prepared for what she saw on Monday morning, before Jeremiah was to head out to Wayne Industries. He and Bruce had agreed to go in a little later, so he was in the lab when she entered to monitor the security.

There he sat at the long, steel work table, apparently taking a hit of insanity gas using the box as a makeshift bong.

“What the hell are you doing?” she yelled, vaulting over the table to grab the tubing from him. He sidestepped her and icily stared her down.

“Ecco. Stop.” His voice was so eerily vacant and sinister.

“How long?” she tried to hide the tremor in her own voice, she was so afraid for him.

“It eases the headaches.”

“But…”

“It’s nothing to worry about.” He turned away and coughed.

It now made sense to her, how much his voice had changed. If he’d been inhaling the gas all along, it must have been altering the sound from his voice box. It also made sense how he was hardly sleeping - if at all - this week, and the level of energy he had was like that of a well-trained athlete. Her mouth hung open in awe.

“You can help me if you like,” he purred, knowing that she would. She always did. “Get in touch with my late brother’s colleagues and find out how this gas is made. Get more. Find out if there are variations that I can use to...subdue others. Get formulas for those, or place an order. Ask if there are liquid forms in addition to the gases. I’ve got $90K cash in the bottom left drawer of my desk that you can use expressly for this task.”

He packed up the box as he continued. “I don’t know if it’s enough money, but it should be enough to at least convince those idiots that I’m serious about the investment.” He turned back to her and stroked her cheek. “Will you do that for me, my dear?” He put his hands on her shoulders and began to gently massage. He studied her every expression, moving his hands closer to her throat with each squeeze. When he finally had his thumbs against her windpipe, he smiled delightedly at the look on her face. Dazed, aroused, needy. He’d always suspected she’d like it a little rough. He’d have to test that theory out sometime. “What do you say, darling?”  

“Yes. I’ll handle it,” she whispered. “All of it.”

“That’s my good girl.”

*****

He met Bruce at the entrance to the bunker at 10 AM. Jeremiah was running on 76 hours of no sleep and didn’t look a bit tired - though, to be fair, the makeup disguised any dark circles he had. Ecco had to help him a bit with the extra coverage. One thing Bruce noticed was that Jeremiah seemed preoccupied. It was difficult to make small talk with him on the way to the office. He kept looking out the side window, studying the landscape of Gotham like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Jeremiah, with an abundance of energy and a growing arrogance, worked side by side with the engineers to ensure sufficient progress would be made. By 2 PM, the generators were in amazing shape and Jeremiah was feeling cocky.

“Bruce, I think we can run the full test tomorrow morning. We need to have someone cut the power to this floor so we can hook up and run one of the generators.”

“I’ll check with the building manager to…”

Jeremiah interrupted and stalked over to him. “I’m sorry, you’ll check? You own the company Bruce. Just _tell_ them,” he sneered.

“Jeremiah, I don’t order people around just because I own the company. There is a protocol, a hierarchy…”

“Jesus, don’t be such a child. Just get it done.” The redhead literally turned his back on Bruce and strode out of the room. The six engineers kept their eyes down and pretended they hadn’t heard.

Bruce stood still as a statue, breathing deeply through his nose so he would not fly off the handle.

When he finally felt calm enough, he found Jeremiah out by the loading dock smoking a cigarette.

“Since when do you smoke?”

The redhead made no reply.

“Fine. I’m here to say one thing to you. Regardless of my feelings for you, you will not ever speak to me like that in front of the staff and you will not further embarrass me by walking out. Do I make myself clear, Valeska?”

“Please,” Jeremiah snorted. “You’re a little boy playing in a grown man’s world. Do you forget that I’ve been an engineer for nearly seven years?  I know what I’m doing. The work has to get done. If you won’t get it done, find me someone who will.” He took a final drag on the cigarette and flicked the butt to the side before gracefully stepping around Bruce.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Jeremiah didn’t even turn his head. “Back inside to finish.”

“You’re doing it again! You’re patronizing me and walking away. What the hell is your problem?”

“Bruce.” He turned around slowly, a dangerous look on his face. “Stop being dramatic. Are we finishing this up today or not?”

As much as it killed him to do it, Bruce couldn’t let this stand.

“Not. I think you should go home, Jeremiah. I’ll call you a cab.”

“No need.” Indifferent, Jeremiah pulled out his phone.

“Hey. Are you free? Pick me up at Wayne Industries. Address is in the computer.” He paused to listen. “Yes. Of course. Nothing to be concerned about. I’ll be outside.”

“All done, Bruce,” the redhead shrugged. “Anything else you want to punish me for? May as well get it out of your system now.”

“Punish _you_ ? I’m trying to understand why you are so hell bent on punishing _me!_ I feel like you’re constantly pushing my buttons to see when I’ll snap!”

“Maybe the question should be why it is so easy to push your buttons. You’re strung way too tight, Bruce.”

Bruce could feel the heat rising on his face. He was _this close_ to throwing a punch to wipe the smirk off Jeremiah’s face. Instead, he took a deep breath, walked to the parking lot and drove away. Jeremiah rolled his eyes, lit another cigarette and leaned against the concrete dock to wait for Ecco to arrive.

*****

Tuesday morning at 8:45 AM, Jeremiah stood by the freshly dug grave where his twin’s remains were to be laid to rest. Ecco had brought him to the cemetery, but stayed in the parking lot on the hill overlooking the eastern section of the graveyard. He insisted that he didn’t need her at his side for this, and she spent the time making phone calls.

At 8:55 AM, Bruce parked in the same lot and headed down the steep cement stairs to where Jeremiah stood observing the casket being wheeled toward the grave. Sensing movement at his right, Jeremiah turned his head and was shocked to see Bruce Wayne standing there in a formal black suit.

“What are you doing here?” he stage-whispered, carefully studying Bruce’s impassive face.

“I agreed to be here,” the younger man said cooly. “I try not to break my promises.”

Jeremiah nodded, somewhat chastened. The two of them stood side by side and listened to the minister as the casket was lowered into the earth.

It took less than 15 minutes and then the minister shook Jeremiah’s hand and walked away. Bruce stood silently while Jeremiah stared at the top of the casket.

“Want a ride to W.I.?” Bruce murmured. Startled, Jeremiah looked up from his trance-like state. “Figured we may as well test the generator like you planned. You up for it?”

The redhead nodded and followed Bruce up to the parking lot. He caught Ecco’s eye and inclined his head so she knew he was leaving. The blonde nodded and didn’t start her car until he and Bruce pulled away.

There was silence nearly the whole way to Wayne Industries, which was a good 25 minute ride from the cemetery. When they pulled into the parking lot, after Bruce cut the engine Jeremiah finally spoke.

“Thank you for being there this morning, Bruce.” Bruce nodded, looking straight ahead. “It’s clear that commitments are important to you.”

“Well, let’s get inside,” the younger man said, reaching for the door handle.

“Wait. I assume you would like an apology.”

“No.” Bruce shook his head and then looked mournfully at Jeremiah. “No. Because I don’t think another apology will matter coming from you. Something else will happen that you need to apologize for.” The redhead said nothing.

“Do you even know what today is, Miah?” Bruce clenched his jaw, voice just above a whisper.

“Tuesday?” Jeremiah guessed, shrugging. “The day I got to finally put my lousy brother in the ground.”

“Tuesday? Yes. Tuesday. We met one week ago today. Remember that day? That night?” Suddenly choked up, Bruce had to look away. “What the hell happened? We were so happy and then…” He wiped his eyes and snapped, “You turned into Jekyll and Hyde. I don’t even know who you are right now. I wouldn’t have even contacted you today except I promised I would be at the cemetery.”

“Bruce, look…”

“No, no, no. We’re not gonna go round and round again this morning. Let’s get inside and get your generators finished. I gave you my commitment about that too, and I’m following through. After that’s all done, we can talk about us. Or not. Whatever. But let’s at least get through today without some sort of scene.” Jeremiah tried to touch Bruce’s arm, and the younger man pulled away. “Not now. Let’s do this.”

The team tested one of the generators at 11 AM, successfully running the entire building’s power for an hour at Bruce’s request. By 3 PM, 30 self-perpetuating energy efficient generators were finished and placed in secure storage on the 17th floor.

Wearily, Bruce and Jeremiah drove back to the bunker sometime after 4 PM.

“Jeremiah,” Bruce asked as they parked at the quarry. “Are you wearing makeup today?”

“What?” The redhead froze. All these days wearing foundation and lip color, and now Bruce noticed?

“It’s just, under your eyes it looks like you’d put some concealer on or something. It’s sort of settled in the lines.”

Remembering what Ecco had advised him, he nodded. “Yes. My dark circles were so bad today that I borrowed something from Ecco. I didn’t want to look like I was mourning my stupid brother.” Shrugging, he added, “You’d have made a great detective, Bruce.”

Bruce turned in his seat and once again reached across to take Jeremiah’s hand. “So, what do we do now?”

Jeremiah closed his eyes, concentrating on the feel of Bruce’s hand in his. Finally, he looked at the younger man and shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve hurt you so many times this week. I’m not sure that it makes sense for us to keep seeing each other if…”

“Miah, you know I love you, right?”

“Yes,” Jeremiah whispered. “I know.”

“Do you remember, you said it first?” Bruce tried hard to keep his voice steady.

“Yes.” He did remember. He’d whispered it Wednesday morning when he thought Bruce was asleep - and then Bruce said it back before he left. “But does love even matter if all I do is cause you pain? Maybe I’m just not good for you, Bruce. I’m too damaged.”

“I don’t believe that. You’re just going through a rough patch. I have those names now, will you get in touch with one of them? Maybe get some help? I really think it could make a difference.”

The redhead nodded. Bruce let go of the engineer’s hand to get a paper from his inside jacket pocket, which he handed to Jeremiah.

“Please call one of them. I’m not ready to give up on us.”

Jeremiah looked at the handwriting on the yellow post-it note. Without Bruce’s warm touch to buffer his temper, the concept of getting help made him feel trapped.

“So, our staying together is conditional on my calling one of these shrinks?”  

“No, that’s not what I said. I…”

“Fine. It’s fine. I’ll call. But maybe I should give you a little space, you know, a little breather from my...what was it, my Jekyll and Hyde personality?”

“Miah, I don’t want space. I want you. But I want you the way I remember you last week.”

“Maybe the way you remember me wasn’t the real me. Maybe _this_ is the real me, and you just can’t deal with it. I can’t be something I’m not, Bruce.” He tucked the post-it note in his raincoat pocket.

“I’m trying here, Jeremiah. Don’t get pissy - give me a little credit for looking out for you.”

“Yeah.” Jeremiah leaned over and gave Bruce a quick kiss on the lips. “I know. Thank you. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

Bruce nodded, feeling a little sick. That didn’t go nearly as well as he’d hoped, but it was certainly better than yesterday. But before Bruce could start the car, Jeremiah hesitated and then leaned into Bruce again, this time cupping his cheek and giving him a real kiss. Bruce made a surprised, happy noise and Jeremiah took the opportunity to slide his tongue between Bruce’s parted lips. Bruce wrapped his arms around Jeremiah’s neck, desperate to keep him close.

“Love you, Brucie,” he murmured, as Bruce held his face in his hands.

“Me too, Miah. Me too.”


	11. This Barren Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although Bruce held out hope that he and Jeremiah would get back on track, a final confrontation proves him wrong. Jeremiah figures out what holds him back from his ultimate purpose. Ultimately, the darkness wins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take another chance, take a fall, take a shot from you  
> I need you like a heart needs a beat  
> It's not from you   
> I loved you with a fire red and I was turnin' blue  
> And you say sorry like the angel  
> Heaven let me think was you
> 
> But I'm afraid  
> It's too late to apologize
> 
> \- One Republic, "Apologize"

Confused, Jeremiah looked at the mail on his desk and glanced up when Ecco walked in. He didn’t even remember walking back through the maze.

“Have you made a decision? Will it be tonight or tomorrow night?”

“What?” He sat on corner of his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Hijacking the generators. Tonight or tomorrow?” Ecco stepped closer. “Are you alright? You seem a little fuzzy.”

Jeremiah looked at his watch. He must have been outside far longer than he thought - it was nearly 6 PM. He’d been in Bruce’s car getting ready to leave...and then he turned back and kissed the boy. After that, he’d practically had a lapful of Bruce and…God, it was so nice. It reminded him of when they were making out in the bunker lab a week ago after that dinner - before they’d had sex. Before - before everything _changed_.

“Uh, I’m...I’m fine. Tomorrow night. Let’s do it tomorrow night - I don’t think I’m sharp enough right now.”

“Maybe you should try and get some sleep. How long has it been?”

Jeremiah thought back to the last time he’d actually been in his bed. “Could be almost five days now. I’ll see about a nap later. I should rest up for the big event.”

“Your makeup is smeared.”

“Hmm. Yes, he noticed the makeup today.” Jeremiah took out a handkerchief and started wiping at his cheek, revealing the stark white skin underneath the flesh-toned foundation.

Alarmed, Ecco asked, “Did you say what I told you….”

“Yes, yes,” he interrupted. He waved his hand dismissively. “It was fine.” 

“Alright. I’ll go make some phone calls to confirm we’re a go for tomorrow night.” Seeing he was in no mood, she slipped out of the room and headed to her quarters.

The redhead nodded to himself, absently touching his lips.

His lips.

What about his lips?

Suddenly it clicked.

Touching Bruce in some way - holding hands, kissing - seemed to be a trigger of sorts. He had been coming away feeling muddled; floaty. Bruce’s touch made him briefly regress to that nerdy, soft engineer that he’d left behind. It was a distraction.

If he was to fully embrace his destiny - his greatness - he had to stop getting sidetracked by the boy. If he wanted to successfully put his plans in motion, he had to avoid touching him.

Maybe he’d have to avoid him all together.

*****

After three hours of fitful dozing Tuesday night, Jeremiah was back to work in the lab and back to inhaling his gas to get some energy and keep the headaches away.

By Wednesday late morning, Ecco had successfully located Jonathan Crane, the guy Jerome had called “bag head.” Turns out the kid was a chemist and could produce various toxins at will. All for a price, of course, but money wasn’t a problem. Scarecrow (Crane’s street name) would not divulge the formulas of his work, but would gladly produce whatever Jeremiah wanted. He provided more gas along with a kit of test tubes full of the gas in its condensate - liquid - form and threw in a bonus; something called  “fear toxin” that Jeremiah could try out on others.

With that load off his mind, Jeremiah turned to more lofty thoughts. He and Ecco would head to Wayne Industries with their hired crew after midnight to basically steal the completed generators, and the crew would position each generator in its designated location throughout Gotham before morning. Then...well, then he would go to the GCPD and reveal himself once the city was at his mercy.

The plan was a good one; the only snag was getting past the security guards on the restricted access 17th floor. The good news was that Ecco had taught him to be an excellent marksman. He was a very accurate shot, but she was a trained assassin. He’d have her do the dirty work.

But at lunchtime, his peace was shattered when the phone rang. No one ever called him - only Ecco and Bruce Wayne - and he dreaded picking up the call. Today was so important, and dealing with Bruce could send everything off the rails. He thought about ignoring the call, but knowing Bruce, he’d be worried and would head over to the bunker. That was a complication Jeremiah didn’t need.

“Hey. Bruce. How are you?”

“I’m good. Listen, after last night I didn't get the time from you…”

“Well, I’m pretty tied up…” the redhead interrupted, unsuccessfully.

“...you didn’t even let me finish. I was just going to ask what time you wanted me to pick you up for dinner.”

Jeremiah furrowed his brow, puzzled. This was a surprise. Did he make plans yesterday and completely forget them? His brain turned into Swiss cheese when he was alone with Bruce and the boy started touching him. He did not remember!

“Oh, dinner.”

“Yeah. Remember? I invited you to Wayne Manor for dinner and you told me to call you so we could decide on the time.”  
  
“Right, right. I’m sorry. I got so involved in a new project I started last night that it completely slipped my mind. Can we...can we do it another time?”

Bruce’s stomach dropped. Just when he thought things were on the upswing again, Jeremiah was deflecting.

“Oh.”

It was only one word, but something about Bruce’s tone triggered Jeremiah.

“Oh? That’s your response? Wow, sorry that I actually have a life. Did you forget the world does not revolve around you?"

"What?" Bruce gasped, completely taken aback by Jeremiah's unprovoked attack.

"Gee, Bruce. I didn’t realize that I was beholden to get permission from you before I carry on with my life. Can you for five minutes forget that you’re the billionaire Wayne heir and understand that there are other things going on outside of your little bubble? Jesus fucking Christ. Don’t whine because I’m not at your beck and call. I’m so glad the energy project is wrapping up, so I don’t have to deal with your childish nonsense on the daily. Can we _not_ do this now?”

Stunned into silence, Bruce waited a few beats and then disconnected the call. He then shoved the vase near his elbow off the table, and with shattered ceramic crashing around him he slid down the library wall to sit amongst the shards.

Startled by the noise, Alfred appeared, and sensing Bruce was about to lose it, reached for the young man and helped him stand. Bruce burst into tears, as his butler held him close. After everything he'd seen and heard (and he knew he hadn't heard the half of it) Alfred was certain that if he kept seeing this Valeska boy, Bruce was going to have a nervous breakdown.

“Listen to me, Master B. You’ve got to pull yourself together, yeah? I know you’re sweet on the boy but he’s got some serious problems and until they’re sorted he’s only going to cause you pain.”

Bruce nodded, only half convinced. He was sure that if Jeremiah got help…

“Bruce, look at me.” Alfred rarely called him just 'Bruce' and it usually meant he was at the end of his rope. The boy raised his wet eyes and waited. “I know you think you love him. You haven’t said as much, but you’ve put up with far more inside of one damn week with him than you ever did in 4 years of knowing Miss Kyle.”

“I don’t _think_ I love him, Alfred. I _know_ I do. Just because I’m only 18…”

“No, no. Not because you’re 18. But because it’s been a whirlwind of emotion. Maybe the way it started wasn’t real, you see. You were thrown together in a very dangerous, nearly fatal situation. Something like that is bound to bring people together in their common experience. They forge a false bond and it clouds their judgment.”

Bruce nodded, but he didn’t really agree. He _knew_ , damn it. He knew from the first as if Jeremiah's name were written on his wrist like in those soulmate novels. Something was going on here that he couldn’t figure out. Even someone who was bipolar didn’t change on a dime this quickly. It seemed to be minute to minute. Drugs? Could he be using some drug that was making him act like this?

“What then? Say again?” Alfred had him by the shoulders now, and was searching his eyes.

Bruce hadn’t realized he’d spoken that last bit out loud. “Do you think he’s doing drugs? It would explain a lot, and I’d feel a whole lot better knowing I didn’t cause…”

“Oh, no you don’t, Master B. You will not accept responsibility for this boy’s serious mental issues. To be sure, you didn’t _cause_ anything here. If anything, you have been more than patient and generous and, I daresay...caring…” Alfred almost said loving, but he hated to think that Bruce may have gone that far with a complete headcase. “...with the young man. You do not deserve this kind of treatment. If I didn’t respect the fact that you are a grown man and can handle yourself, I’d drive over to that concrete jungle and kick the bastard in the teeth for you.”

That got a laugh out of Bruce, and he wiped the tears off his face. “Thank you, Alfred. That’s quite an image.”

“Well, sod it all, I’d like to punch him square in the jaw and leave me signet ring imprint behind as a souvenir. Whether or not he’s doing drugs, whether he’s got a split effing personality, whether he was raised by wolves - none of it is your fault.” He took a breath. “Now then, what are you going to do about him?”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I’m really tired of this seesaw. I should just leave it for today, I know. But it’s going to eat at me all day if I don’t go over there and confront him.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

Bruce shook his head.

“No. It’s something I have to do on my own. But thank you, Alfred.”

*****

After Bruce hung up on him, Jeremiah knew the boy would be coming to see him. It annoyed him that he had to go put his makeup on - he couldn’t chance blowing the heist of the generators tonight, so he got ready hastily and made a pot of coffee. He hid away anything incriminating, including the guns and ammo he’d taken out of the safe earlier, and sat at the worktable pretending to analyze an old blueprint that Bruce would not recognize.

After a hit from the gas and drinking half the coffee, Jeremiah understood this Bruce problem was his own fault.

He’d been the one to slip up, making out in the car with that beautiful boy again last night. Accept a stupid dinner invitation that he’d shortly forgotten about. Why couldn’t he have figured out sooner that it was _Bruce_ that made him forget his purpose, made him soft and sentimental, turned his insides all gooey and caused him to be careless? So what if they had a great night together once? It was a week ago. Sex was no big deal, right? Bruce was trying to turn it into something meaningful. He wasn’t the same man he was that day; people change; it’s not you, it’s me; blah, blah, blah. How was he going to make Bruce see that this was going nowhere?

“I think you just spelled it out pretty clearly.”

Jeremiah looked up in surprise, not realizing he’d been carrying on out loud to himself. There stood Bruce Wayne in the doorway, looking older and far more tired than someone his age ever should.

“Bruce, I…”

“Don’t. Why didn’t you just say all of that last night? Why have you been leading me on, letting me think we had something special when you didn’t really care at all? Just to use me to get the grant money? Here I am, trying to get you help so that we can repair the damage to our relationship, only to find out there's no relationship to repair. Is it because this really is the “real you” and I was just blinded by stupidity that first day? Saw what I wanted to see and made this into, as you said, ‘something meaningful’? I’m sorry I was so naive to believe you loved me.” He stepped up to the worktable. “Why did you _say_ you loved me if you didn’t? Not the first time. I guess I could explain that away as the ‘heat of the moment.’ But why did you say it again last night?”

Jeremiah stared at him. “Did I?”

“Jesus, now you’re going to say you don’t remember? How very convenient. I came over here to see if you were okay. I see that there was nothing for me to worry about.” The younger man moved back toward the doorway. “Nothing at all.”

The redhead stood, but refused to go after him. It had to be this way. He had to fulfill his purpose and Bruce was only going to ruin everything.

“Look. I admit I've been a little emotional. Attached to you. I thought I’d found...never mind; clearly I was mistaken. You’ll still be named the inventor of the generators, I’ll even see to it that the intellectual property reverts to you and not Wayne Industries. But the remainder of the grant is off the table. I can’t deal with this situation any more.”

Bruce met Jeremiah’s gaze and in the stoic manner he would one day be known for, he squared his shoulders and steadied his voice.

“Goodbye, Jeremiah.”

Indifferent, Jeremiah did not reply.

*****

_Present day_

Bruce was surprised to get a phone call from Lucius Fox the next morning. It seemed there had been a break-in at Wayne Industries during the night and two guards had been killed in the fracas. Shaken, Bruce considered going into the office to help with the security logs and cameras and to learn if anything was stolen, but shortly after he hung up, Captain James Gordon called him.

“Bruce. I need a favor.”

“Captain, you know I’m always happy to help.”

“I have a situation that you might be able to diffuse. I understand you and Jeremiah Valeska are close.”

Bruce stiffened. “I’m not sure I’d agree with that statement, but go on.”

“I have some critical police business that I need help with. I can’t tell you what it involves, but I need you to go to Jeremiah’s bunker and see if you can talk to him.”

“Police business? What could Jeremiah have to do with police business, and what makes you think I can help?”

“Well, he specifically asked for you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Lucius called you earlier about the break-in. But have you seen the news reports this morning?”

“About the explosions in the Narrows? Yes, terrible. But what does that have to do with me? Or with Jeremiah? Isn’t there anyone else who you can send?”

“If there was any other way, Bruce, I’d be on it. Just...will you do it? Will you go talk to him? He was here this morning and it was pretty clear you were the one he wanted to deal with.”

“Fine.” Well, no. It wasn’t fine. But what choice did he have? “I’m on my way.”

“I can send a police escort, but they won't be able to go the last half mile to the bunker. He was clear about that."

"Police escort? Are you joking? No. No, I don't need that. I can deal with Jeremiah."

"Okay, then. Please be careful.” _Be careful?_

“Jim, I'll be fine. I'm not afraid of Jeremiah.”  Bruce disconnected and left without telling Alfred.


	12. Sturm und Drang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> German for "Storm and Stress."
> 
> Present day: Chapter 12 is a direct continuation of the opening scene in Chapter 1. You may want to go back and read that to refresh your memory, but it's not necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was just guessing  
> At numbers and figures  
> Pulling the puzzles apart  
> Questions of science  
> Science and progress  
> Do not speak as loud as my heart
> 
> Tell me you love me  
> Come back and haunt me  
> Oh, and I rush to the start  
> Running in circles  
> Chasing our tails  
> Coming back as we are
> 
> Nobody said it was easy  
> Oh, it's such a shame for us to part  
> Nobody said it was easy  
> No one ever said it would be so hard
> 
> \- Coldplay, "The Scientist"

_Present day_ (continued from Chapter 1)

> _“But I didn’t send you anything from Wayne Enterprises.” Bruce put the bottle down and turned Jeremiah’s face toward him. “Jeremiah. I didn’t send you anything,” he whispered. "I didn't have a chance to send you anything. We'd just met, remember?"_
> 
> _“I know,” Jeremiah choked out a laugh that ended on a sob and Bruce died a little inside. “But see, I didn’t know. I didn’t know because I didn’t think. I didn't think because I was just...all caught up in you. In us. All I could think about was you. And I made a mistake. And then it was too late.”_

 

Once Bruce understood what Jeremiah was trying to say, he was devastated all over again - but for a different reason.

“So, you’re saying _Jerome_ did this to you?”

Jeremiah shrugged. “I should have known he wouldn’t have gone to his death without taking me with him, literally or figuratively.”

“How did he...”

“It was a jack-in-the-box. The box was so unique, I thought for sure it was vintage or even antique. That’s what convinced me to open it, thinking it was from you. It sprayed me with Jerome’s insianity gas - a special version he had made for me.”

Bruce stared at him, dumbstruck.

“He even left an audio recording, Bruce. There’s no doubt this was what he intended for me in the event the blimp plan at Paisley Square didn’t work out.”

“So, the gas did _this,_ ” he gestured with his free hand, “to you - the skin, the eyes…”

“Yes,” Jeremiah whispered. “And it’s done much worse. It’s overwritten my personality the way a hard drive can be reformatted. The personality you knew when we met has been all but erased, bit by bit. It’s even changed the way I speak. It’s...I won’t say it’s turned me insane, because I’ve actually never felt _more_ sane. But it’s brought out what I sense has always been my true nature; the dark side that I’d been repressing since childhood. The most dangerous parts of me have been raised to the surface, magnified. Multiplied. I don’t know how to explain it all…”

“Tell me, Miah. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying with you.”

Jeremiah smiled sadly. “We don’t have a lot of time, Bruce. But I’ll tell you as much as I can.”

Bruce held tightly to Jeremiah’s hand as he explained all that had transpired: the transformation, the headaches, his growing addiction to the toxin to keep the headaches at bay, the single-mindedness with which he could focus on something and drive it to completion without needing to sleep. Lastly, the sudden urge to steal the generators that he and Bruce built to use as explosives in order to bring the city to its knees.

"So everything that happened with us? The anger, the indifference, the aggression? All because of this gas?" Jeremiah nodded. "And if you hadn't gotten sprayed..."

"If I hadn't gotten sprayed, I'd have called you the next day and we'd," he laughed bitterly, "be a lot happier than we are right now."

Convinced he could help, the younger man blurted out, “I’ll get the gas analyzed. Maybe we can reverse engineer it - find a way to undo its effects!”

“That’s why I asked for access to Wayne Labs earlier. I’ve been in touch with Jonathan Crane, who created different variants of it. He won’t share the formula,” Jeremiah laughed, “though he’s happy to take my money to create more of it. It’s designed to be irreversible. It has such a hold on me...it’s been almost 10 days now. I’ve tried to fight it but everyday I fight it less. Everyday, less of me _can_ fight it. It’s part of me; in my DNA. The ‘new’ me is stronger and wants to stay this way. At this point,” he started to tear up, “there’s so little of the ‘old’ me _left_ , it’s too late. ”

“No.” Bruce was numb. “No, I don’t believe that. Look at what we’ve been able to do!” He rubbed his thumb along Jeremiah’s hand. “Here. Like this, you’re still in there...I mean, still _here._ ”

“Bruce, you can’t keep a hand on me 24/7. And as much as it has worked today, I already feel it weakening. It's always a temporary effect. It won’t be much longer before it wears off and I’m unable to talk to you like this. And I don’t know if it just _stops_ at some point. Permanently.”

“But...how am I supposed to let you go now that I know the truth?” Bruce eyes welled up with tears.

Jeremiah raised their joined hands so he could run the back of his fingers down the boy’s cheek.

“Brucie,” he whispered. “I don’t _want_  to go.”

For the first time since the death of his parents, Bruce Wayne felt a grief that threatened to consume him.

Born of his grief, a fury at the senselessness of loss and an obsession for justice would follow, shaping him into the man he would become. But here and now, in this unforgiving place with the boy he’d simply _known_ was his other half, Bruce was broken.

“But there _is_ something you can do for me, Bruce. This is really important, so I need you to listen carefully. I want you to get a few things from my desk and take them with you when you leave.”

Bruce nodded, tears spilling from his eyes.

“In the top left hand drawer of my desk is a street level map of Gotham. It has the locations of the 18, well, now 15, bombs that are set to go off. I’m sure I, _he_ \- can I say he? - has other plans besides this one, but - again - my memory gets fuzzy and plays tricks on me. Take that map to Jim Gordon. Maybe it will help. Oh, and obviously I don’t want you to reinstate your grant money in return. Well, _this_ me doesn’t want it,” he laughed bitterly.

Bruce scooted closer, wanting to prolong what was looking like their last moments together for a very long time.

“In the center drawer are several vials. Take one of them - it’s the condensate of the toxin gas. Go ahead and analyze it. Maybe your people will have better luck.”

“Miah, you know I’ll have to let go of your hand to get these things. Please don’t make me do that. Not yet.”

Jeremiah was sweating now; whatever connection that bound them and enabled this soul-to-soul communication was starting to fade with the gentle personality Bruce knew and loved.

“Bruce, you have to. And take my gun too. You might need it to defend yourself...” His voice broke on the next words. “...against me.”

“You would _never_ hurt me.” The younger man shook his head vehemently. “Of that I’m sure.”

“Then take the gun and kill me with it.”

Bruce flinched as if he’d been struck. “What? No.”

“I don’t want to be... _this_...if it means being without you.”

“I can’t. Don’t ask me to, Jeremiah. I can’t do it. I love you too much." Bruce shook his head. "What if we won’t _always_ have to be apart?”

Jeremiah chuckled sadly, tears flowing again. “Yes, I knew you wouldn’t do it. But I had to ask.”

“i would never.” Bruce whispered. After a moment, he rushed to admit, “Miah, this change - the physical part, I mean. Just so you know. You’re...stunning, not scary. Not to me. I wouldn’t have been afraid of you if you had told me - shown me - when it first happened.”

Jeremiah felt a pang of regret. Maybe if he’d told Bruce right away...maybe if he’d let Ecco take him to the hospital...

They sat looking at each other for a few moments more. Then Jeremiah weakly squeezed Bruce’s hand.

“It’s time, beautiful,” he murmured. “Please. Take those things for me, and go. Please.”

Bruce shook his head defiantly, even though he knew he had to do what Jeremiah asked.

“Why does it feel like you’re dying?” Bruce wept, wrapping an arm around Jeremiah’s neck.

“I guess in a way I am.” Jeremiah felt sick to his stomach. “It’s my brother’s perfect revenge for what I did to him when we were kids. There are things I didn’t tell you. I was...just plain evil and Jerome bore the brunt of it. He wasn’t always what he became and I spent my life hiding from what I am.” He pressed an awkward kiss to Bruce’s temple. "Please hurry, Bruce.”

Dreading the moment he had to release Jeremiah’s hand, Bruce untangled himself from the other man and, backing away, let go at the last possible second. Jeremiah smiled through his tears at Bruce’s tenacity.

Bruce rifled through the desk, rolling up the map and shoving the toxin vial in his front pants pocket. He reloaded the gun, checked that the safety was on and shoved it into his waistband at the small of his back, glancing at Jeremiah to check on him. The other man was sitting quietly, a few tears still tracking down his cheeks as he watched Bruce.

Bruce got within a couple of feet of Jeremiah and laid the man’s knife off to his left side.

“For when I leave. So you can cut the bindings.”

“Thanks,” Jeremiah nodded tiredly.

Bruce backed away, still visibly upset, when Jeremiah called to him.

“Bruce. You need to know, I really did love you. _Do_ love you. So much. If I could do it all over again…I know we were meant for each other.” He could hardly speak, choking on his own grief.

“Jeremiah, I’m going to find a cure or treatment for you.”  

The other man nodded again, wiping the wetness from his eyes.

“I won’t stop, you know that, right? I’ll never stop trying to bring you back, I swear.” He was almost to the door.

“I know,” Jeremiah said agreeably, his voice beginning to morph back into that modulated, melodic tone that Bruce recognized now as the “other.” 

“And I’ll _never_ stop loving you.”

“I know that too.” Jeremiah smiled at the younger man one last time before his eyes grew pale and hard and dangerous.

“Now. Please.” Jeremiah’s voice was replaced by the chilly, haughty, clipped speech that Bruce had come to dread. “You should leave before you waste the very generous head start given you, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce winced. He turned and ran as hard and as fast as he could, praying he wouldn’t forget the way back through the maze with his head as scrambled as it was.

Jeremiah sat in that spot for another five minutes, just staring into space before blinking hard and then trying to move. When he remembered he was tied up with electrical cords he looked around and spotted his knife a few feet away on the floor.

“How thoughtful.”

He slid his free hand out until he could grab the knife handle (Bruce literally left the knife just within his reach) and efficiently cut through the bindings. When he was able to stand steadily again he wiped the last traces of salty wetness from his cheeks and went to the desk.

“Clever boy,” he said aloud as he looked through the drawers. “Well. No matter. I’ll just have to put Plan B in motion.” He dialed his trusted henchwoman.

“The Wayne boy has the map. Yes. Time for Plan B. No, we’ll still execute Plan A - the GCPD isn’t the most competent of law enforcement. They may not get to all of them in time. But you go ahead with the fail safe. Get the girl first, my dear. Save the butler for later. I’ll handle him personally.”

*****

After sitting in his car like a zombie about three miles from Jeremiah’s bunker, Bruce finally headed to the GCPD.

Jim Gordon was surprised to see Bruce Wayne already; it had been only a couple of hours ago that he’d sent the young man at Valeska's request to the bunker.

“Bruce?”

“Cap’n. I’ve got something that might be helpful.”

Jim was astonished. “Bruce, this is a map of Gotham…”

“...yes, with the locations of Jeremiah’s bombs. It’s all I could get from him.”

“How in the hell did you get him to give you this?”

Bruce shook his head sadly. “It doesn’t matter. Just...I hope it helps.”

“Thank you, whatever it is you did.”

Bruce nodded, eyes swollen and face troubled. Gordon had concerns about what Bruce may have had to do. The young man didn’t appear to be physically hurt, but...judging by the look on his face he’d been through quite an ordeal. He'd have to circle back with Alfred at some point and find out what really happened there.

Gordon and his men dispersed to locate and disarm the explosives, and Bruce trudged back to the parking garage. His phone rang just before he opened the car door. Before he could even say hello, that odd, modulated voice cut in.

“You are a very clever boy, Bruce Wayne,” Jeremiah sing-songed sarcastically. “Very clever indeed. But don’t think that little trick will keep working indefinitely. Let me be clear: if you try to manipulate me like that again, you will pay dearly. In fact,” he snorted, “you might be paying sooner than you think.” He paused, waiting for a response that didn’t come. “What is it? Cat got your tongue?”

The young billionaire finally spoke. “I didn’t manipulate anyone. I found a way to speak to _my_ Jeremiah. The one you and Jerome stole from me.”

“Hmm. I see. Well I hope you two had a lovely farewell chat, since I don’t expect you’ll be seeing much of him anymore. Speaking of the cat having your tongue, have you seen your little friend Selina Kyle recently? You might want to check up on her; see how she’s doing.”

“No! What have you _done,_  Jeremiah? If you touch even one hair on her head…” Bruce roared, feeling for the gun at his back while quickly scanning the garage for threats.

“Oh, yes, that’s the spirit! I’ll see you soon, Brucie boy. My, my! You and I are going to have so much fun together.”

The man who used to be Jeremiah Valeska cackled long and loud, like someone who knew a great secret and couldn’t wait to spring it on the world.

God help Gotham.

Bruce disconnected the call and jumped into the Mustang.


	13. Epilogue - The Batman and The Joker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time marches on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes we're holding angels  
> And we never even know  
> Don't know if we'll make it  
> But we know, we just can't let it show
> 
> It's everything you wanted  
> It's everything you don't  
> It's one door swinging open  
> And one door swinging closed  
> Some prayers find an answer  
> Some prayers never know  
> We're holding on and letting go
> 
> \- Ross Copperman, "Holding On and Letting Go"

_5 years later_

The Batman is bone-weary; all he wants is a little sleep. But he rarely sleeps well. Between his real job as the caped crusader and his day job overseeing the artificial intelligence division of Wayne Enterprises, his brain never really shuts off.

If he gets more than 4 hours of sleep a night, he’d be surprised. Much like someone he used to know.

Once his cowl and cape come off he tries to recalibrate; but switching gears and separating Batman from Bruce Wayne is harder and harder to do.

Bruce sank onto the edge of the cot in the control room he and Alfred affectionately named “the bat cave” when a call came in from Lucius Fox. It was odd to hear from Lucius this late.

“Lucius. What’s up?”

“Bruce. Thank you for taking my call. I know we haven’t talked about this in quite some time, but I believe when you requested my help, you’d made it clear it was of highest priority. I know it’s late, but I didn’t want to wait.”

“You’ve...you’ve got something?” Bruce was afraid he wouldn’t hear Lucius over the blood rushing in his ears. “Really?”

“Nothing solid, just…a start, really. You of all people know that without human test subjects, animals and computer models can only take us so far. But…”

“But?”

“We’ve isolated a chemical footprint, if you will, that may, with repeated exposure, stop the addiction response he’s been having.”

“Stop his addiction? God, that’s certainly a first step. How likely is it that the build up of toxins in his system can be reversed if he stops using?”

“There’s the rub, Bruce. There are a number of factors. He’s been this way for...years…”

“I’m well aware…”

“Of course, no disrespect meant. There’s also the concern that he’d already been somewhat psychologically impaired years before he was exposed to the original form of the toxin cocktail. There’s an added complication in that he’s altered the toxin a few times.”

“Lucius.”

“We don’t know the ramifications this new chemical compound will have. It’s not an antivenin or vaccine. It could do more harm than good. And there’s also the near certainty that he will refuse the treatment. I suppose you can, in your ‘Batman’ persona, kidnap him and force it on him. But I don’t think that’s what you intended. Again, it’s merely a first step.”

Bruce was silent.

“Bruce, my point is that, even if he were to willingly use this inhibitor, it only arrests the compulsion to continually use the toxin cocktail. While the inhibitor may alleviate his headaches the way the toxin does, removal of the toxin will result in a very difficult and painful withdrawal like stopping any opioid. Compare it to taking a methadone derivative to subdue a heroin addiction. And it doesn’t necessarily correlate that his psychosis will begin to reverse. Which, in the end, is what you're after. Years of intensive psychotherapy and medication might not even reliably reach someone that is as damaged as Joker is.”

“I appreciate the call, Lucius.” Bruce’s voice was a sad monotone. “Will you continue the research?”

“Of course. But, as one friend to another? Don’t you think it’s time you let this go?”

“No. I made him a promise. I _can’t_ let it go.”

After a short period of silence, Lucius spoke.

“He was very lucky to have known you, Bruce.”

“Was he, Lucius? Or did my relationship with him ultimately create what he is now? If I hadn’t convinced Jeremiah to leave the bunker to come to the Square with us that day...If I had killed Jerome the year before when I had the chance...”

“Bruce. Life is full of ‘what ifs’ and you can’t take the burdens of the world upon your shoulders. As it is, you took Gotham onto your shoulders. You may never know how much of the darkness was already his and how much was the fault of the gas.” Lucius’s voice softened. “When did you last see him?”

“Who, Joker? I saw him about three weeks ago. As arrogant, calculating and callous as ever.”

_As beautiful and seductive and magnetic as ever._

Bruce took a deep, shuddering breath. “But _Jeremiah_? I saw Jeremiah last night. I see him _every_ night when I close my eyes. And every night I mourn what he could have been. What _we_ could have been, together.”

He was glad neither Lucius nor Alfred were there to see the rare tear slip down his face.

“I’ll keep putting on the cape and try to rehabilitate Joker. I’ll keep doing it so long as there’s even the smallest possibility that one day I’m able to bring the old Jeremiah back.”

After disconnecting the call, Bruce pulled up a grainy film on his computer: the live television broadcast of that long ago day in Paisley Square. Bruce’s 18th birthday.

Jeremiah Valeska and Bruce Wayne sitting together with explosive collars around their necks. Bruce maintaining eye contact with Jeremiah, willing him not to panic; to stay strong until they could figure out how to escape from Jerome unharmed. Bruce pouring all his strength into Jeremiah with that look, stormy blue eyes meeting forlorn hazel ones, and then...

Bruce freezed the frame. _There._

It was the moment that Jeremiah decided to put his trust in Bruce. Believing Bruce would find them a way _(a way out, a way in, a way to each other)_ , he took a deep breath and spared a hopeful smile for the billionaire.

It was the same kind of unguarded smile Jeremiah gave Bruce the following morning when they’d parted as lovers; young and hopeful for their future, for Gotham’s future.

Before it all went to hell.

*****

For all his horrible, inhumane crimes, the Joker is an undeniably handsome man. Not in spite of his deformity, but enhanced by it. His paper white skin almost glows. His glittery pale eyes are mesmerizing. The pillowy, sensuous ruby lips are as tempting as any catwalk model’s. He wears perfectly tailored, bespoke suits that hug his athletic build and long legs like he was born in them. And that grin. Perfect white teeth in a shockingly beguiling smile. A stunning specimen, yet ultimately terrifying.

Terrifying because inside, it seems his heart is _cold._ He is remorseless; incapable of emotion or empathy, caring for nothing and no one.

The reality, however, is somewhat less dramatic.

Joker does care for two people - though these feelings may better be described as unhealthy obsessions. The first is his long-time companion, a blonde woman who has loyally remained by his side and takes everything he dishes out. The second is the Batman.

Batman fascinates Joker like no one else. Batman is a lone wolf; a justice warrior; a masked vigilante fueled by a wild temper and dark rage to rid Gotham of villainy.

But Joker knows there is more to Batman behind the mask.

He knows  _who_ the Batman is; had known from their first meeting. You see, the eyes were visible behind that first, silly cowl. The eyes gave him away: a stormy, dark blue gray.

_“...the blue of a deep lake, where you can see so much going on under the water but there’s not even a ripple on the surface.”_

The Joker doesn’t remember all the details but he remembers speaking that sappy line of micropoetry to a boy named Bruce Wayne and he feels an insatiable hunger when he looks into those eyes. He recalls snippets of fiery passion between them - of love, even - in another life and time. He hopes to have this man again someday; to recapture what his fractured mind prays was a real memory. It sure feels real.

When Joker’s mask slips in front of the Batman, instead of that maniacal grin, a genuine smile appears.

That rare, true smile is a knife to Batman’s heart.

In that moment, Bruce Wayne is 18 again and in love with a ginger-haired engineer - brilliant, handsome, naive, with a strange darkness beneath the innocence. Bruce’s match in every way.

Joker can bring Batman to his knees with a glimpse of that smile: the smile that belonged to Jeremiah Valeska when he loved Bruce Wayne; the smile that Bruce sees every night in his dreams.

_“Do you believe in soulmates?”_

Bruce had known the first moment their hands touched. A touch that almost staved off Jeremiah’s descent into full darkness.

_“I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon, beautiful.”_

A kiss goodbye, a walk through a maze, and then...

_“All I could think about was you. And I made a mistake. And then it was too late.”_

...left behind are two damaged men walking converging paths; forever treading water; destined to be each other’s greatest weakness.

*****

After Lucius’s call, Bruce finally considers something he’d long denied himself: that maybe it _was_ time: not to let go; no, never that. But to simply accept the tragically beautiful Joker just as he is. Face the fact that their mutual obsession will never fade and just give in to it. He suspects the other man would be receptive of such an arrangement; he’d never bothered to hide the hunger in his pale eyes, even before Bruce donned the cowl.

He knows the other man is aware of Batman’s true identity; saw recognition in those same eyes though the two men have never broached the subject aloud.

Admitting he wants Joker _(in his life, in his bed, in any way beyond their ongoing rivalry)_ would be costly, yes; the consequences unpredictable and so very compromising of Bruce’s moral code. But could it be any worse than living without _some_ part of Jeremiah for the rest of his life?

_“I’ll never stop trying to bring you back, I swear.”_

For five long years Bruce has lived without his heart; his other half; his one true love. Nothing has dulled the ache in his chest. How much longer can he withstand the crushing separation from his soulmate?

Maybe by being with Joker, the transformed man who lives in Jeremiah Valeska’s body, he can get an occasional glimpse of the old Jeremiah;  _his_ Jeremiah. Maybe that will be enough.

_Five years, Miah. Where did the time go?_

Bruce puts his head in his hands and weeps.

 

_Fin._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who knows how long I’ve loved you?  
> You know I love you still.  
> Will I wait a lonely lifetime?  
> If you want me to - I will.  
>   
> \- The Beatles, "I Will"  
> 


	14. Batjokes Playlist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soulmates find each other and fall in love, only for a tragedy to change their lives forever - now destined to walk converging paths separately and be each other's greatest weakness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music can be such an inspiration, and I wanted to share with my readers part of the playlist I listened to (and still listen to) when writing this fic. 
> 
> If you want to re-read the story, each chapter now has a snippet of lyric to set the tone.

For those who came here thinking I actually added a real chapter, I apologize. I may do some one-shots, but this story is "finished" as is. This is just a bonus playlist for songfic fans.

Songs range from Bruce & Jeremiah meeting and falling in love to Jeremiah’s transformation, descent into madness, Gotham’s destruction, Bruce donning the cape, and Batman letting go but never forgetting “before it all went bad.”  Sometimes it's only one or two lines in a song that matter (you'll know it when you hear it, for example in "Louvre" by Lorde and "Vlad the Impaler" by Kasabian), others just evoke the mood.

The playlist includes the graveyard reveal and the clock tower, situations that don't take place in "Poison in the Blood" because I wrote the story before those episodes aired. I've included links to the Gotham theme music on YouTube and I added _(notations)_ where there is a change in chapter or episode.

I hope you find this enjoyable! 

 

  1. Soulmate - Natasha Bedingfield 
  2. **[4x18 Bruce Meets Jeremiah - David Russo Music](https://youtu.be/_iUdacg2ypE) _(Gotham 4x18)_**
  3. Dangerous Night - 30 Seconds To Mars _(Poison Ch 3)_
  4. We Might Fall - Ryan Star _(Poison Ch 4)_
  5. Bring Me to Life - Evanescence _(Poison Ch 5)_
  6. **[Jeremiah Sprayed - David Russo Music](https://youtu.be/XZTRqR2cX5k) _(Gotham 4x18, Poison Ch 6)_**
  7. The Sound of Silence - Simon & Garfunkel  _(Poison Ch 7)_
  8. Black Cloud - Choo Choo La Rouge 
  9. Paint It Black - Clara 
  10. Monster (feat. Jamie Lidell) - Big Data _(Poison Ch 7-11)_
  11. Hollow Moon (Bad Wolf) - AWOLNATION 
  12. Spirits - The Strumbellas 
  13. Control - Halsey 
  14. Off I Go - Greg Laswell 
  15. Monster - Starset 
  16. **[Bruce& Jeremiah in Bunker/Paranoid - David Russo Music](https://youtu.be/fYbw6lgGkPo) **
  17. Vlad the Impaler - Kasabian 
  18. Caught by the Light - Boxer Rebellion  _(Poison Ch 10)_
  19. Savin’ Me - Nickelback 
  20. The Scientist - Billy Chuchat _(Poison Ch 1, 11-12)_
  21. Apologize - OneRepublic  _(Poison Ch 10-11)_
  22. Monster - Imagine Dragons  _(Poison Ch 10-12)_
  23. The Love Letter - Blaqk Audio  _(Poison Ch 12)_
  24. The Beginning of the End - Klergy & Valerie Broussard 
  25. Supercut - Lorde 
  26. **[Jeremiah Revealed - David Russo Music](https://youtu.be/V8TC1d9Sdhc) _(Gotham 4x20)_**
  27. Cut The Cord - Shinedown 
  28. Heathens - Twenty One Pilots 
  29. I Just Wanna Know - NF 
  30. Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea - MISSIO 
  31. Depraved - Mammals 
  32. Hallelujah - Jeff Buckley 
  33. **[Jeremiah& Clock Tower - David Russo Music](https://youtu.be/uAlSDohdm5U) _(Gotham 4x21)_**
  34. The Louvre - Lorde 
  35. Gasoline - Halsey 
  36. Play With Fire - Sam Tinnez 
  37. Grim Reaper - Keaton Simons 
  38. **[Bruce vs. Alfred - David Russo Music](https://youtu.be/UYpOTWDbb-E) **
  39. Running Up That Hill - Placebo
  40. Moving in the Dark - Neon Trees 
  41. S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W - My Chemical Romance 
  42. Smile Like You Mean It - The Killers 
  43. **[Bullock Disarms Jeremiah’s Bomb - David Russo Music](https://youtu.be/yedYJni9hd8) **
  44. Hellfire - Barns Courtney 
  45. My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark - Fall Out Boy
  46. Weapon of Choice - Fatboy Slim 
  47. Machine Gun - Portishead 
  48. **[Jeremiah Shoots Selena - David Russo Music](https://youtu.be/8qdxQcD0IWk)**
  49. Villain - Yellow Claw 
  50. Step - Vampire Weekend
  51. Heavydirtysoul - Twenty One Pilots 
  52. Psycho Killer - Talking Heads  _(Gotham 4x22)_
  53. Spark - Fitz & the Tantrums 
  54. Underdog - Kasabian 
  55. Centuries - Fall Out Boy 
  56. The Man - The Killers 
  57. **[Jeremiah Takes Bruce - David Russo Music](https://youtu.be/Vfs1TlrwNzk) **
  58. Black Sea - Natasha Blume 
  59. Black Horse and the Cherry Tree - KT Tunstall 
  60. **[March of the Villains - David Russo Music](https://youtu.be/gEJNmOhh2GU) **
  61. Lemon to a Knife Fight - The Wombats 
  62. Blood in the Cut - K.Flay 
  63. Buildings & Bridges - Ani Difranco 
  64. The Remedy - Jason Mraz 
  65. **[Gotham Falls - David Russo Music](https://youtu.be/ivPzFFHx2K0) **
  66. Fire - Barns Courtney 
  67. Burning Bridges - One Republic 
  68. Burn the City - Tragedy Machine 
  69. Pompeii - Bastille 
  70. Bloody City - Sam Tinnesz 
  71. Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Lorde 
  72. Things We Lost in the Fire - Bastille
  73. **[Bruce Decides to Stay - David Russo Music](https://youtu.be/bFcixRqdi9s) **
  74. Second Chance - Shinedown _(Bruce after Gotham 4x22 and before Poison Ch 13)_
  75. It’s Not My Time - 3 Doors Down
  76. It’s Time - Imagine Dragons
  77. Behind Blue Eyes - The Who
  78. **[Bruce Sees the Light - David Russo Music](https://youtu.be/5anFfIltXrI)**
  79. Tomorrow Still Comes - Will Dailey
  80. Safe and Sound - Capital Cities
  81. Superman (It’s Not Easy) - Five for Fighting
  82. Losing My Religion - REM 
  83. Sucker for Pain - Lil Wayne _(Batman and Joker in the years between Poison Ch 12-13)_
  84. State of My Head - Shinedown
  85. Laughing out Loud - The Wallflowers
  86. Born Ready - Zayde Wolf
  87. Natural - Imagine Dragons
  88. Glitter & Gold - Barns Courtney
  89. Homemade Dynamite - Lorde
  90. Battleships - Daughtry
  91. Beautiful Crime - Tamer
  92. How Do You Want to Be Remembered - Magic! _(Bruce starting to let go, Poison Ch 13)_
  93. Holding On and Letting Go - Ross Copperman
  94. That Time of Year - Sick Puppies
  95. Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd
  96. Take Away My Pain - Dream Theater
  97. Uninvited - Alanis Morissette _(And maybe trying again post Ch 13? Can they?)_
  98. Dark Horse - Katy Perry
  99. **[Bruce Finds His Path - David Russo Music](https://youtu.be/Mghsu0dz4o8)**
  100. I Will - The Beatles 




End file.
